


From Buds to Flowers to Fruits (The Branches)

by Sounddrive



Series: The Path She Picked [3]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Backstory, Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Slice of Life, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21730159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sounddrive/pseuds/Sounddrive
Summary: The next installment of "The Path She Picked" series. This work contains specifics that occur in my Apprentice’s/MC's story. Will be labeled accordingly.This work is subject to updates/edits/modifications as I see fit. I will note the dates of initial publishing at the end of the chapter(s) I post.Newest Update(s): [31DaysofArcana related; Ch 2, 5, 9-10, and 16-19]
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana), Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Apprentice/Nadia (The Arcana), Apprentice/Portia Devorak
Series: The Path She Picked [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1415851
Kudos: 8





	1. Part I — (Apprentice/Librarian Timeline); Foundations

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted onto tumblr on December 5th, 2019

_** Walterine's POV ** _

I found him taking a sledgehammer to Selasi’s rotting bread boxes.

Earlier, at a private room of the public baths, Bảo’s friends were helping to delouse his niece. She came just in time for the Masquerade. It was extremely lucky that none of us went to the palace, or elsewhere, to celebrate the Masquerade.

An was the one that found her, lost in South End and about to be mugged. They safely brought her to uncle. The reunion was tearful and overjoyed, despite how ragged Bảo’s niece looked.

She looked like she had been through hell and back, and from the looks of her hands and how messed up her shoes were—if they even could be called shoes at this point—the poor kid needed a bath and a long ass nap.

When Bảo saw me approaching, he set the sledgehammer aside and sat down on a crate. He pulls another one and sets it up for me to sit on.

“Hey…” I greet, putting my hand on his upper back.

“Walt, how she?” Bảo asks, voice raspy.

“Last I heard from the ladies, she’s deloused, clean and dried up, and sleeping her little head in your place,” I say.

He sighs in relief, rubbing his face with both of his hands.

“...that why you left?” I murmur. Removing my hand from his back, I move my fingers, covering one of his wrists.

He lowers his hands, staring dejectedly at the sky above. Never mind the fact the Masquerade is in full swing around us: we are in our own little bubble outside of it all.

“Tội nghiệp con, she go through hell…” Bảo murmurs, his voice watery. I extend my arm out to him, and he huddles into my side.

Neither of us were going to the Masquerade this year. We had more important things to attend to.

⁂

_Later..._

“Can I see her?”

“Neha, shh,” James quietly hushes her. “The poor lass is still sleeping. I don’t think she’d be appreciating of anyone staring at her like she was a zoo animal.”

“Okay…”

We’re back at Bảo’s place now, trying to figure out what to give his niece for food. According to his friends, she couldn’t keep much food or drink down.

They tried to give her dishes from their hometown, but it just made her sick.

Bảo’s place is a small, two story building. The first floor was his stationary shop, doubling as a clergy supply store to the different places of worship around the Temple District. It’s closed now, thanks to the guest sleeping on the second floor. For now, the rest of us are trying to figure out where to go from here.

I’m sitting on the couch with Bảo, sharing some tea with the others. Trắc’s the doctor among us, doing an additional physical exam on the poor kid.

Bảo knows what his niece’s name is, but he told us all that she personally picked another name for herself. Also according to him, she wants to introduce herself to us with her new name too.

“Make it easier,” was his reasoning.

I’m a bit worried about another thing though…

“You sure all her papers are on the up and up?” I ask him again, with him looking over the pile of papers with his niece’s new name. I only gloss over it, looking at her last name.

“...it wasn’t required when I came here,” James murmurs, bringing a platter full of cookies and different breads, courtesy of my cousin.

“You came here with an intent to be in an apprenticeship, then you became a citizen here,” I remind my husband. “This girl’s got nothing beyond needing to get the hell away from her father and grandfather.”

“She also had a lot of lice, but I can happily say she’s free from them,” Trắc states, coming into the room. We all greet her respectfully and make space for her to sit down.

Bảo and Trắc exchange a few words before they both finally eat some of the food on the table. Neha, my little fireball of a child, comes in and plops herself into my lap.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, Baby?” I reply, gently tousling her green hair.

“When is she gonna wake up?”

I exchange a look with Trắc, who replies, “Not yet, Neha. She needs her rest!”

“But I wanna meet her noooooow,” she pouts.

Bảo bursts out laughing, doubling over to the point where he falls against the other arm of the couch. I shake my head as there is a bit of a reactionary uproar over my daughter’s outburst. Hell, even James is amused!

“You haven’t even met her yet, Neha-”

“She adopt her as big sister already!”

_“HAHAHAHAHA-!”_

“Oh my god-!”

Trắc and I have to calm down the room together, to make sure the poor kid in the next room isn’t woken up from the commotion.

It’s gonna be a long night, but at the very least, the kid is gonna be in a warm, caring place when she wakes up.

⁂

The girl comes to almost a full day later.

All of Bảo’s friends, sans Trắc, wait outside the room she’s in. The doctor herself is checking the kid’s vitals. The kid can barely talk, but she’s listening to what the doctor is saying. Eventually, Trắc steps out and waits with all the others outside.

This leaves my husband, our boyfriend, and child in the room with the new occupant of the house.

Bảo pulls up a low stool, sitting beside her. The two hold a short conversation together, but we all can see she is exhausted.

Neha squeezes between her daddy and I, trying to get a good look at the young lady. We both place a hand on either of her shoulders, stopping her from getting into her face.

The young lady looks at us nervously. Bảo speaks to her softly, his voice nothing but reassuring. I don’t understand everything, but I think he’s glossing over who James, Neha and I are to him. When she looks at us again, she manages a small smile.

Softly, so softly I need to strain a bit to hear her, she says:

“H-hi…” she swallows, tucking some hairs behind her ear. She grips the blanket that covers her lap between her fingers, twitchy.

“My name is Lyra Nguyen. It is nice to meet you.”


	2. Part I — (Apprentice/Librarian Timeline); Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Apprentice!Lyra Nguyen, Walterine Aster, James Aster, Bảo Nguyen, and Asra
> 
> Timeline: January, nine years ago
> 
> Part of 31DaysofArcana; [Day XI]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on November 8th, 2020

They say that music soothes the most savage of beasts. While Lyra herself wasn’t such a creature, her stomach reacting violently to anything she ate may as well have been one.

It’s been a week since Lyra arrived in Vesuvia. While she was finally free of lice, the young lady couldn’t hold much food down. Water and juice were fine, but solid foods, fruit and vegetables alike were almost immediately vomited back up. She couldn’t handle more than one spoonful at a time, every twenty minutes or so. By the time she’s finished with any bowl of gruel, it was too cold and barely edible.

At night, she couldn’t sleep because of her stomach gnawing at all hours of the night. No amount of water or juice could satiate it. There were times her uncle, Bảo, stayed by her bedside as she sobbed in agony. Before long, this left the man looking as haggard as the day he came to Vesuvia.

“I don’t know if she can do anymore,” Bảo laments one morning. His shop is closed for the day, allowing the man and his partners to discuss what to do next for his niece.

“None of my potions have worked,” Walt murmurs, sighing softly. “She doesn’t have bad reactions to them, but she’s not responding to any of them either.”

“Trắc ‘as been givin’ medicines too,” James reminds them. “Hopefully they get some traction soon . . .”

“What I’m worried about is the fact we got two sleepless people in the house,” Walt gestures to Bảo especially. The man’s falling asleep on James as they speak!

“I can handle it,” Bảo insists, almost immediately yawning.

“No, you can’t.” James exhales, gently rubbing his partner’s back. “Could we rotate in for ya, then?”

Bảo shakes his head no. “She not used to both of you yet,” he reminds. “Everything make her jump . . .”

“He’s got a point,” Walt sighs, shaking her head. “I hate to say it, but at the rate she’s goin’ she might not see the end of the month.”

Walt winces as some of the light leaves from Bảo’s eyes. He’s quiet, unable to look at her.

“Babe—”

“No no you . . . you have point,” Bảo reassures. “We . . . we need to figure the way to help her. I don’t want to write my sister her eldest is dead under our care . . . ”

* * *

Early in the morning, Lyra’s reluctantly awake. She’s nursing a cup of water in her hands, looking out of the window seat her uncle had installed. It, it was for her . . .

When was the last time she had anything been meant solely for _her_?

Before Lyra could muse on it any longer, the door’s knocked upon.

“Come in . . .” she rasps.

The teen turns to see her uncle entering with a bowl of soup, which was expected. Who and _what_ weren’t however, are his partner, Mr. Aster, and seeing that her uncle has his đàn kìm in tow.

“Eh?” Lyra gestures to the instrument. “Làm gì đấy?”

“Muốn nghe, không?” Bảo offers, giving her the bowl. As Lyra grasps it, settling the bowl into her lap, her uncle begins tuning the instrument.

“Okay . . .?” Lyra replies, looking askance at Mr. Aster for an explanation, if there was any.

“He tinks some music might help,” James explains, looking sheepish.

“ . . . nhạc?” Lyra squints at her uncle.

A short exchange between the Leysan transplants leads to Lyra shaking her head as Bảo grins. James gives her a sympathetic look, which makes the teenager huff in amusement through her nose.

Before long, Bảo begins to strum a few scales, singing them in a silly, twangy matter to make his niece smile. Satisfied with the tuning of his đàn kìm, he starts to play a lullaby, singing softly.

Upon hearing it, Lyra winces. Memories strike her from behind, sinking that knife into her back. It . . . it was too heavy to think about with her current state. She spoons some soup into her mouth, swallowing slowly.

As she works the porridge down, Lyra’s eyes wander over to her uncle’s fiancé. He wasn’t like the other men she knew her uncle to like, though given geographical differences it was to be expected. She squints at the man, cautiously spooning another bit of soup into her mouth as her uncle continues to play. She can see that James is looking at her uncle with a tender smile. She’s glad for it, though unsure what to totally make of it.

Like him, his wife Walterine adores Bảo. To Lyra herself, they were an odd trio to say the least. Walterine is an accomplished magician, specializing in protection spells. James is a baker, working in the estate of one noble’s house in the Heart District four times a week, and running a small bakery out of Bảo’s kitchen the rest of the time. And then, there’s her uncle: he won the land his shop stands on in a mahjong gambit. He took it from dilapidated ruin to the pristine stationary/supply shop the Temple District knows to this day . . .

Before long, Bảo finishes the song. James and Lyra applaud his performance. He looks to James, a small, mischievous smile on his face.

“What are you doin’?” James inquires.

“Your turn,” Bảo replies.

“Wat?” James stares at his partner, incredulous. “Bảo—“

“I play as you sing!” Bảo strums a quick little melody, trying to get James to laugh.

He does.

Once the bespectacled man calms down, he coughs, shaking his head. “The notes from that won’t won’ match what I have in mind,” James replies.

“Then sing without this!” the man sets his instrument aside, gesturing to the space around them all. _Go on,_ Bảo silently encourages.

James exhales softly, shaking his head with an amused smile. He looks to Lyra, who eyes him curiously in turn.

“Okay . . .” James clears his throat. Before long, he sings the intro, slowly enough for Lyra to hear.

The words are soft, and Lyra can barely understand it as is. Still, the man’s voice is lovely . . . soothing, even. As she spoons another bit of soup into her mouth, she pauses, listening to the next stanza that floats from James’s mouth.

_“Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin. Siúil go socar agus siúil go ciúin. Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom. Is go dté tu, mo mhuirnín slán . . .”_

* * *

She’s collapsed onto the floor again, glasses sliding off of her face. Her brown eyes stare into nothingness, unfocused as a dribble of drool escapes from the corner of her mouth. Asra swears under his breath, swooping down to support her head.

“Forget, Lyra,” Asra whispers, pressing two fingertips to her forehead. “Forget . . .”

The spell mists over her face. As usual, after an episode Lyra lays prone on the ground. Asra pushes his leather bag under her head as a surrogate pillow, to support her heavy head. The magician sighs, deciding to fix her a snack. There were some apples still around . . .

**O*O*O**

Upon returning to the ground floor of the shop, bowl of sliced apples in hand, Asra can hear her mumbling in her sleep. For Lyra, it wasn’t unusual for her to be talking in her unconscious state. _That_ much hasn’t changed, at least.

“I'll . . . sell my rock, I'll sell . . . my reel,” Lyra murmurs. “I'll sell my . . . only . . . spinning wheel . . .”

Asra stops in place, staring at Lyra as she hums the rest of the song:

_To buy my love a sword of steel . . . Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin. Siúil go socar agus siúil go ciúin. Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom . . ._


	3. Part I — (Apprentice/Librarian Timeline); Keeping Her Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Neha Aster and Lyra Nguyen centric story. This wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote this down. This took the span of two weeks thanks to finals, but it’s officially done!
> 
> Featuring: Scenes of a multilingual family, sisterly love, and a significant amount of trust to keep a secret (for the moment at least).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted onto tumblr on December 13th, 2019

It’s been a month since Lyra had started living with Baba. Mommy and Papa told me to not bother her with too many questions.

There’s a problem with that.

I can’t help the fact I wanna know anything and everything about her! She’s so cool! And new!

It’s breakfast when I say hello to her in her and Baba’s language. I scared her a little, but she gives me a smile. I love her smile. She’s so pretty.

“Alrighty,” Papa says as he places down a small stack of crepes in front of me. “Neha, do you want some candied almonds?”

“Yes please!” I nod. Mommy hands me the jar of them and I dump out a lot onto my plate.

Lyra blinks at the mountain of almonds in front of me, confused. Baba explains to her something in a mix of Vesuvian and her mother tongue. Lyra blinks again and looks at him, her eyes squinting.

“When’re you getting her glasses?” I ask Baba.

“The appointment is next week,” he says, winking at me to reassure me.

“Good,” I say, crunching on the almonds.

As we eat breakfast together. I can’t help but keep looking over to Lyra. She’s squinting for the most part, picking at the porridge that Baba made for her. Baba is talking to her quietly. I think he’s asking if she can or can’t handle eating that either.

Ly can’t handle much food. According to Auntie T, it’s because the people Lyra was travelling with just gave her scraps of food. It was only enough to keep her alive, but it wasn’t fulfilling.

I overheard Papa telling Mommy that he was worried Baba would do something stupid as payback against those people.

I see people in the Temple District, starving too. Mommy, Papa and Baba help where they can in various temples and other places. Sometimes Baba lets some them sleep on pillow futons on the bottom floor of his house, so long as they don’t have lice and don’t smell too bad.

I share my candy with them too, time to time, but Papa says to be careful. I dunno why but he says stuff like that a lot.

By the end of breakfast, Baba needs to finish off the rest of Lyra’s porridge. She could only eat a quarter of it.

As she hobbles away to her room upstairs, I ask my mom and dad if I can stay a bit at Baba’s.

“She won’t be a bother,” Baba tells Papa when he gets that look in his face.

“All right,” Mommy says, ruffling my hair. “I expect you home by lunch, okay?”

I look at the time. It’s only 8:30 AM. Lunch was 12:30 PM.

That was fair.

I nod, giving Papa a big smile. “I’ll be home by then; I promise.”

With a sigh, Papa lets me have my way.

Baba and I see them out, waving as they left.

“Okay Nene,” Baba says to me, handing me a broom. “I open in half hour. Can you help me sweep?”

I let out an aggravated groan, but I nod. I could do that, at least.

⁂

_Later..._

After I am done sweeping, and sneezing, I rush up the stairs and find Lyra’s room. Her room is at the end of the hall, next door to Baba’s. As usual, her door is propped open a bit, letting some air in.

I peek in, and I see she’s awake.

Her bed, from where I’m standing, is jammed into the corner, her head facing the door. She squints. Seeing that it’s just me, Lyra waves me in.

I skip in, pulling a little three legged chair nearby to sit on beside her.

“Chào con,” Lyra says to me.

That means ‘hello kid’, as far as Baba told me. I reply with “Chào chị.”

When she nods in approval, I grin.

“Baba’s been teaching me,” I say, slow so she can understand me. She nods, letting out a small laugh.

“Y-you do good job,” Lyra nods.

“Thank you!”

I wince a little when she coughs. She takes a cup from her night stand and drinks it until the rest of it is gone. I take it from her before she drops it, grimacing.

“It’s okay. I have butterfingers too,” I say, trying to cheer her up.

I think it works, because she laughs.

“How you feeling?”

She does a ‘so-so’ motion with her hand.

“You taking the medicine Auntie T. gave you?”

She nods, making a gagging noise.

“Yeah I don’t blame you. It smells nasty, _yeck_.”

From that point, I do most of the talking. She’s super tired, but she seems to enjoy me being there with her.

Eventually, she pulls out a really big, really old book from under her bed. I see a lot of weird symbols covering the covers and spine.

“Whoa, what’s this?” I ask, scooting closer to see what she wants to show me. I gasp.

“Wait are you teaching me dark magic? It’s a spooky book, but-”

She holds up her hand, stopping my runaway mouth. Lyra knocks three times on the cover, and I gasp as an inky, blobby shadow swoops out from between the pages. It comes so close to my face I fall off of the chair and onto the floor.

“You okay!?” Lyra exclaims, moving so fast out of bed she stumbles, falling down on the ground next to me.

“Ow. Yeah...?”

I get up, rubbing my sore side. She stays down on the floor, face down into the rug.

“You can get up you know,” I say with a laugh. I pat her back, jumping when I see the inky shadow-blob still watching us.

It’s got sparkling, swirling silver eyes, staring at _me_.

“Lyra, who’s this?” I ask, whispering.

Still face down, she answers, “Tên Umbrae.”

Tên means name... so its name is Umbrae?

“Umbrae?” I ask it. I get chills when it nods at me.

“Cô giáo của chị.”

“Your teacher is an ink blob—uh, I mean that with all due respect,” I answer quickly, looking at Umbrae.

Umbrae only nods at me before dipping back into the textbook. That answers one of my questions, at least.

I help Lyra get back into her bed. I hop in under the covers with her too, pressing myself against her side.

Gods, she’s _cold_...

“Could you teach me?” I ask her, my voice a whisper.

She seems to think about it, before she shakes her head no.

“Aww, why not?”

“...James no rike,” Lyra explains, moving to wrap an arm over my shoulders, patting my upper arm.

Ah, right. There was the two-thirds rule between all three of my parents. If I asked Baba or Mommy first, they’d direct me to ask my Papa. It was usually his vote that decided on whether or not I could do something.

It was always up to my birth parents in the end. Baba was the one that set up this rule so that Papa wouldn’t get a heart attack if I went off and did something without Papa knowing.

Baba is pretty lenient with me on what I wanna do for the most part. I just can’t swim in or dance close to the canals, go into bars without parental supervision...

Fun stuff like that, you know.

I give her a pouty face, making her laugh. She ruffles my hair, trying to soothe me.

“...isn’t your mom going to teach you?” Lyra asks.

“Yeah, but the thing is,” I sigh, turning into her side, my cheek smooshing against her chest, “I don’t have a knack for it. I’m better at dancing.

“I told Baba, and he said that maybe I should focus more on dancing, but I wanna learn magic too!” I thump the bedding beneath us in frustration.

“It take time, con,“ Lyra says.

“But I wanna learrrrrrrrn,” I sigh dramatically.

Lyra laughs a little more, covering her mouth.

I dunno why she does that. Heck, most of the aunties do that, the ones that came with Baba here. I dunno why. I don’t wanna say it’s weird, because rude.

I like seeing her smile. She hardly smiled for about two weeks. I was the one that got her to smile, when I was dancing in the living room of Baba’s place.

Mommy was dancing with me, while Baba was playing his đàn kìm and Papa was stomping a beat on the floor, shoes on. Lyra was laid up in a corner, watching us dance.

Baba went off beat and played really, really really fast on the đàn kìm. He went so fast, I tripped!

There was a sputter and a great big laugh from Lyra, all cocooned up in the corner. She still wasn’t 100%, but I managed to get a laugh out of her.

Up until now, my proudest achievement.

Before I can say anything else, Baba knocks on the door frame.

“Come in!” I say, sitting up.

“You two hungry?” he asks, sticking his head in.

Lyra nods, and so do I. She gets off of the bed first, and I launch myself out, rushing past Baba and into the kitchen.

There’s another laugh from Lyra, louder than earlier. I can’t help but grin.

_Success!_


	4. Part I — (Apprentice Timeline); Becoming Distinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While doing some magic tricks, Asra once again encounters the person that fell into his booth during the Masquerade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of The Arcana Love Like Yours Fest on Tumblr
> 
> May 17th, 2020: Start of Something New

**May, nine years ago**

_Her!_ Faust declares from her spot atop Asra’s fluffy head.

“What?” Asra stage whispers, almost losing control of his magic. Dropping five spheres of conjured water on the audience would be _bad_ for business...

There’s a crowd gathered in front of Mrs. Aster’s shop. They’re all here for him, to see his tricks before getting on with their day, or to go into the magic shop itself.

The young magician was in the middle of doing some magic tricks when Faust spotted _her_ in the crowd. By some miracle, Asra continues his performance without any trouble. He contorts the spheres into a thin, lengthy strand of water. He dances around, dazzling the crowd with his fancy footwork. His watery ribbon of a partner wasn’t too shabby either.

For a brief moment, he wondered if _she_ could see around all these people...

To finish off his routine, he twirls and twirls and twirls, replacing the water back into a nearby jug. Ceremoniously capping the container, Asra takes a sweeping bow. Several measly coins are deposited into the box in front of him, but the day is still young.

The crowd disperses, save for the girl that stumbled into Asra’s booth back in January. Even as she approaches timidly, Asra's feet dig into the dirt as he snatches his box of coins from the ground. Reflexes, he supposed.

“...is Mrs. Aster there?” she asks softly. Her tremulous voice, added with her heavy accent, confirms she was not from around here.

The last time they ran into each other, she was crying her eyes out. Asra thought it was because of the uneven haircut she had, but that was fixed. The ends were just barely touching her chin now. She had gotten new glasses too.

“I think she has some customers,” Asra shrugs, not looking her in the eye.

“Can… wait here?” The girl glances to the spaces on either side of him, unsure where it would be okay.

Asra shrugs, gesturing to the empty space on his left in reply.

She whispers something that sounds like ‘thanks’ in a language that niggles his memory. As she grabs a nearby crate to sit on, Asra wonders where he’s heard that accent before.

For a short while, it escapes him. When it starts to frustrate him, he puts the thought aside. Asra wonders what she might want with Mrs. Aster. It doesn't seem like they would know each other... the girl clearly isn't from around here—and then it clicks.

“Are you and Mrs. Aster’s boyfriend from the same place?” Asra asks. He racks his brain for the man’s name. Bow? Beau?

“My... u n c l e?” she says slowly.

“Yeah! Short man, walks with a swagger sometimes?” _At least he wasn’t the Count…_

“Cậu Bảo,” she nods, her eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Yeah! Him!” Asra exhales, wishing he could will away the burning sensation of his face. “We, uh… don’t talk much.”

 _Pretty!_ Faust pops up from her spot, previously wrapped within the scarf around Asra’s shoulders.

The girl's startled by Faust, falling off of her crate. Asra couldn’t help the laughter that sprang from his lips. Unfortunately, he chokes on some of the dust she disturbed on the way down.

“Con rắn?!” she exclaims, gesturing to the little morph.

“Snake?” Asra coughs, glancing at Faust. “Yeah! Friendly! She’s friendly,” he says in… reassurance?

_Wanna squeeze!_

“No, no squeezing,” Asra chastises, wagging his finger at his familiar. “She’s a stranger.”

“Eh?” the girl blinks up at them.

Before Asra can continue, the door to the shop opens up. As three customers exit, Mrs. Walterine Aster replaces them at the threshold.

“I was wondering when you two were gonna meet,” the woman says, her bright violet eyes looking at the two of them. “How about the both of you come in for lunch?”

“Thanks Mrs. Aster, but can I get it to-go?” Asra murmurs, wrapping his scarf around his mouth. He was really happy she let him go; other people would’ve forced him to stay…

“All right, all right,” Walt exhales, expression nonplussed. She places an OUT TO LUNCH sign outside the door as she beckons the two teenagers to come inside. As Asra passes the threshold, the girl behind him pauses, sniffing the air. Her eyes land on the burning incense cones on top of a shelf. They were the things providing the vanilla scent permeating through the shop.

...has she never smelled vanilla before?

“How many portions you want, Asra?” Walterine asks, taking the fluffy-haired teen out of his thoughts.

“Three,” he says, quickly pocketing the coins from his box.

As Walterine starts for the stairs, the girl stumbles on after her.

“Lyra, you stay downstairs,” Walterine says gently, stopping her... niece?... from following. "After Asra leaves you can eat with me down here, okay?”

The girl nods, settling down on a chair usually meant for waiting customers. As Walterine hikes up the stairs, Asra leans against the glass counter across from her.

“Lyra...” Asra tries her name out, his tongue working through all the letters.

“Dạ?” she replies, looking at him curiously.

“Oh no, I wasn’t talking to you,” Asra replies, shaking his head.

“...okay.”

They stand in awkward silence, looking everywhere but at each other. Faust on the other hand had other ideas.

The little morph stretches herself out from Asra’s shoulders, trying to close the distance between the two teens. Asra catches his familiar, making a _tsk_ noise before placing Faust around his shoulders again.

_What was taking Mrs. Aster so long…?_

“You talk to snake?”

“Hmm?” Asra looks up at her, blinking. When Lyra repeats herself, Asra _pffs_ in reply.

“She’s my familiar,” Asra explains. He didn’t see any confusion from Lyra, so he didn’t explain any further.

He was trying to ignore it, but there's the intense aura around her again. The purple-eyed magician felt a tiny bit of it when they first ran into each other, but now—with her emotions not so out of whack—Lyra's aura is extremely robust.

...is she a magician too?

Before Asra could ponder on it further, Walterine came down the stairs. Stacked in her hands were three big bowls wrapped in clean, white parchment.

He could smell rice, really spicy curry, and other things he didn’t bother naming. His mouth watered, and his growling stomach betrayed his aloof exterior.

“You got them?” Walterine asks as Asra quickly places the bowls in his box.

“Yes; thank you.” He swallows the drool welling up in his mouth. As usual, Walterine sees him out the door. Before he goes however, Walt stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“I know you don’t like people much, but I want you to be _nice_ whenever she’s around,” Walt whispers to him. "She's been through a lot. More than anyone should have to."

“Or what?” Asra asks, voice terse as he clutches his box closer to his body.

“Or nothing,” Walterine sighs. “I’m not gonna withhold food from you or anything, kid. Fact remains that she’s Bảo’s niece. She’s come a long way to be in a safer place…”

 _Safer?_ He wanted to laugh. _What place could be worse than here?_ Regardless, he holds his tongue.

“Okay okay,” he sighs. His stomach growls again. “Can I go now?”

“Be careful Asra,” Walterine bids him farewell, worry etched into her face.

He nods wordlessly and leaves, returning to the Dark Forest quickly. As he walks through the Temple District, Faust's head lifts from his scarf.

 _Pretty friend?_ Faust offers, flicking her tongue out to tickle his cheek.

“No, not a friend,” Asra sighs, shaking his head.

The young magician picks up the pace, panting as he passes the outermost rim of the treeline. He really hopes not… all he needed were Muri, Faust, and Inanna. Four was enough.

The four of them were enough...


	5. Part II — (Apprentice Timeline); Asra - Dreams [That We Speak Of]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Apprentice!Lyra Nguyen and Asra Alnazar.
> 
> [Day I]; Part of 31DaysofArcana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on October 3rd, 2020

After about a year of getting to know one other, these two opened up to each other. One topic often spoken about was about their dreams.

 _"I dream I’m falling, a lot,”_ she said once.

 _“A lot of the time I’m floating!”_ he replied, laughing softly as she shook her head.

Other times, they spoke of what they wanted in life.

_“A librarian?”_

_“Mhm!”_ she nodded.

 _“That means you’d go bright and early to even get there on time,”_ Asra pointed out.

 _“I go bright and early to the Heart District to get to classes as is,”_ she reminded.

That dream would go down the drain within a few months. Asra wanted to hex the bullies that caused her to leave, but Lyra barely convinced him not to.

After that, Lyra dug in her heels and decided to help out at her uncle Bảo’s and aunt Walterine’s respective shops more often. That eventually led to Lyra asking Asra to move into her aunt’s shop with her, so that Walt, James, and Neha could move in with her uncle proper.

Once Asra’s properly moved in, this allowed him to work with Lyra more and more. To _be_ with her more and more . . .

To say the least, that was the beginning of one of his many dreams coming true with her.


	6. Part II — (Apprentice Timeline); Reservations Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on December 30th, 2019

> Timeline: Apprentice; seven years ago  
>  ~~[three years before the Red Plague]~~

It was one of the nights where Asra successfully sneaks through her window. Lyra’s prepared for him for once, to say the least. The last few attempts scared the ever living daylights out of her.

Even if her uncle, his partners and Neha were out at some party in South End, leaving Lyra alone in the house, Asra did let them know he was going to be with Lyra that night.

Having Lyra’s uncle Bảo running up enough times with a wok pan, ready to _swing_ a lethal blow in the past made Asra make _sure_ Lyra was expecting him this time.

And there she was, with a small picnic set up on the floor of her room.

“Happy New Year!” Lyra whispers softly, giggling.

“We still have half an hour,” Asra murmurs, closing the window behind him. He removes his hood, his white curls poofing up and out.

“You washed your hair before you got here?” Lyra inquires, handing him a towel that was on the foot of her bed.

He thanks her, quickly patting his locks before setting himself down on the picnic blanket. From the folds of his scarf, out pops Faust.

 _Friend!_ she greets the ink manipulator.

“Hello Faust,” Lyra laughs, dipping her head in greeting too. She scoots forward a bit, looking at her shiny scales.

“She shed the other day?”

“Yup,” Asra replies, rooting around the platter of foodstuffs she laid out.

There are a bunch of tiny sandwiches, apple pastries—it was James’s handiwork, Asra could tell—, pumpkin bread from the baker, and a giant jug of Asra’s favorite tea.

He spent a moment to inhale the scent, exhaling in satisfaction.

“Did I make it right?” Lyra murmurs.

 _“You_ made it?” There’s a mischievous smile on his face.

“Just because I messed up the last time doesn’t mean I cannot learn!” Lyra retorts.

Asra laughs, earning a playful shove from his friend. He sets Faust down on the ground, allowing her free reign to travel about Lyra’s room as he and Lyra ate together.

They catch up, as if they hadn’t seen each other yesterday. Apparently, Asra actually pulled one last prank of the year, on Count Lucio.

He proudly regales with “I tripped him up with rope!”

 _ **“What?!**_ No, you didn’t-”

“I did!” Asra laughs. “I anchored some rope to the other end of the street and just tripped him!”

“Did you trip anyone else?” Lyra asks, astonished.

Asra’s grin is wide. “Nope! He clears the road basically, like the stinker he is.”

“Asraaaa-”

“What?” he retorts, “you know I don’t like him!”

“I mean, I know, but-”

“But what?”

“The fact you managed without getting caught!”

Asra shrugs, munching on another piece of the pumpkin bread.

“Mine meh nah spfell,” he says, mouth full.

“Pardon?” Lyra asks, picking up an apple tart.

Asra coughs, grabbing a cup of tea to wash down the pumpkin bread.

“It’s-it’s a ‘Mind Me Not‘ spell,” Asra explains. “Basically, it makes me invisible for a bit to everyone else.”

“Is it easy to do?”

“Easy enough.”

“Huh.”

“Why? You want to learn how?”

“...no,” Lyra murmurs, her tone wistful. “Would’ve been useful... about four years ago.”

Asra grimaces. He didn’t know much about what Lyra went through before she came to Vesuvia, but he knew enough from her uncle’s rants to James and Walterine about it.

There were times when he wanted to ask her about her parents, but then he realized that she might return the question to him.

He never bothered with asking her about them.

Still...

“You were on the road how long?”

“Uh,” Lyra bites into her apple tart, contemplating. “It took me longer than it should have; I can tell you that much.”

“How long should it have taken?”

“A few months to half a year. I think I did double that.”

“Hmm...”

“Didn’t help my cousins were useless in helping me,” she laughs, hollow.

Asra frowns. “I hear your uncle threatening things whenever they’re brought up.”

“For their sakes I hope he never gets the chance.”

“Really?” Asra blinks, pausing to drink another sip of tea. “You’re too nice, Lyra.”

“I’ve seen enough violence,” she murmurs darkly.

“Can... can we move on?”

Asra nods, quietly apologizing.

Faust slithers her way up into Lyra’s lap, curling into a loosely wound coil. Her tongue flickers in and out, sniffing the apple tart in the young girl’s hand.

_Munch?_

“Not for you, Faust,” Lyra laughs, petting the little morph’s head as she put the rest of the pastry into her mouth. “Nah fer yew.”

Asra laughs, wispy and soft as he nudges a candied apple to her.

A rousing cheer erupts from outside the building.

“Oh!” Lyra gasps.

“C’mon, c’mon c’mon!” Asra leaps to his feet, picking Faust up from Lyra’s lap and looping her over his shoulders. Lyra moves the platter atop her desk and rushes after Asra, racing up to get to the rooftop with him.

Bảo’s flat rooftop was about fifteen paces in all four directions. Being at the edge of the Temple District, it was one of the better views in all of Vesuvia to see the fireworks show.

Well, even if it wasn’t the case, the company he’s with helps with the view.

As much as Asra detested the Count, he could agree with others that Lucio knew how to throw a celebration.

The two teenagers pull a bench two feet behind the raised ledge of the roof, quickly sitting themselves down on it as the crowds below started to count down.

_Ten!_

“Any New Year resolutions?” Lyra muses, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her eyes aimed to the sky above the palace.

_Seven!_

“Hmm,” Asra chuckles, looking over to her.

_Five!_

“I think I’m gonna introduce you to the friend of mine I keep alluding to.”

“Oh?”

_Three!_

“Mhm.”

_Two!_

“I think it’s about time for the two of you to meet.”

_**One!** _

Before Lyra can reply, a shower of sparks fly from around the palace. Fireworks whistle in the distance, soon booming in explosions of colors above the skies of Vesuvia.

Both of their heads whip upward, their focus now on the show ahead.

Reds, blues, greens, yellows and amalgamations of them erupt in showers of sparks before trickling back down from the heavens. At times, Faust would declare the shapes she sees before the colors disappear.

“Peacock!” Lyra declares.

“Snake!” Asra adds, grinning widely.

_Me?_

“Yes, you,” Asra confirms, nuzzling his dear familiar.

A small laugh escapes Lyra as she watches the two of them. The sight endears them so much to her...

“Wanna join?” Asra teases, canting his head to the side.

“How do you mean?” Lyra blinks, readjusting her glasses on her face.

 _Nuzzles!_ Faust declares.

Lyra was thankful for the moon’s light for not being too strong tonight. “Um, uh-” she stammers, unsure how to handle this.

Walterine has assured her uncle Bảo that Asra wouldn’t take advantage of her. That’s something Lyra truly, deeply believed. The young magician is well known for being mischievous, but as far as Lyra has experienced, he never forced her or anyone into anything they were uncomfortable with.

“What... kinda nuzzles?” Lyra mumbles.

“Nose to nose, or foreheads touching,” Asra explains. “I promise I’m going to behave,” he adds in reassurance.

Lyra lets out a laugh. “Hmm. I think I’ll have to say I’m only okay with snuggling against you.”

Asra chokes, getting laughs from Faust and Lyra.

“Are you okay with-”

“Yeah!” Asra replies, his voice cracking.

With that, Lyra scoots closer to him, laying her head against his shoulder. Asra is visibly flustered, but he keeps his cool... for the most part.

They watch the fireworks, from both the palace and street below, for the rest of the night.

⁂

_Early the next morning..._

**_“IT’S NOT FAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIR!”_** Neha’s voice echoes from below.

Above, Lyra winces as Neha continues her tirade, her voice in a losing match against her parents.

Apparently, Asra already sought permission from her uncle to take her into the forest to meet the friend he mentioned the other night.

Neha isn’t having it in the least. Her arguments of Asra ‘stealing’ Lyra away so much was an offense of the highest kind.

Lyra’s already packed for the journey into the forest. Settled on her bed is a sack full of snacks, a cloak to keep her warm —James told her the forest was significantly cooler than within Vesuvia’s centralized heat—, a small length of stretchy fabric to help keep her glasses on her face, and at the foot of her bed, a new pair of boots.

It was a late winter holiday gift from James. His reasoning behind it was that he noticed Lyra’s old shoes would not last much longer, seeing how she’d worn holes into the soles. That pair is currently being repaired by one of James’s friends, which should be returned by the end of the week.

“Leave early, but return before nightfall,” James warned her.

She promised him she would.

As Lyra laces up her boots, shouldering the sack of snacks, she can hear Neha starting to cry now. Her heart twists in her chest at the sound. She hastens the final knot and clamors down the stairs to the ground floor of her uncle’s home.

Neha is settled in her mother’s arms, sniffling as Walterine gently rocks her back and forth.

“‘S not fair, not fair...” Neha sobs, curling against her mother’s chest. Walterine gives Lyra a sympathetic expression as the other approaches.

“Hey, hey hey...” Lyra murmurs, getting Neha’s attention.

Not surprisingly, Neha bodily turns away from Lyra, sniffling.

“Don’t you gotta go?” Neha coughs, curling into her mother’s front.

“Neha...” Lyra exhales. “Can we talk? Please?”

“Why do you gotta keep going places with him?” Neha sits up, Walterine moving herself and her watching fiancés out of the way so that the two of them could talk.

Lyra listens to Neha vent: she’s tired of Asra always taking her off to places that she can’t join because her parents don’t think it’s safe for her to go with the two of them.

“It’s not fair!” Neha thumps her balled up fists atop of her thighs, tears streaming anew. “I-I wanted to hang out with you last night, but you-you-you were _here_ hanging out with _him-!”_

She bursts into tears yet again. This moves Lyra to pull the young girl into her arms, hugging her. Neha returns the hug, pressing her face into her shirt.

“I’ll spend more time with you-”

“Just you and me?” Neha sniffs, coughing.

Lyra nods. “Yeah, just you and me.”

“You swear?”

“I swear-”

“You _s w e a r?”_ Neha looks up at her accusingly, squinting at her.

The expression comes off as more comical than intimidating, but Lyra manages to reign in a laugh.

“Yes, yes yes, I promise,” she murmurs, gently smoothing her hand over Neha’s hair.

They make it official with a pink swear.

“Sorry about your shirt,” Neha grimaces at the state of it once she’s finally calmed down.

“Ah, it’s just a shirt; I have more,” Lyra says. She wets a small cloth from a nearby basin to wipe off a majority of the snot and tears from her shirt.

 _It’s strange to say that,_ Lyra muses as she wrings out the wash cloth. _When was the last time I could say I had more shirts?_

Not long after she cleans up, Asra arrives with his own travel sack for the venture.

Neha takes every opportunity to stick her tongue out at him, earning light chastisements from her mother and James. Bảo was amused by all of it, quietly laughing.

James inspected their sacks, making sure they had the necessities. He raises his eyebrow at some of the contents of Asra’s pack—some magical components, which Walterine confirmed to be for protection spells—but ultimately...

“All right,” James nods in approval. He looks to Bảo, cuing him to say something before Lyra left with Asra.

“Don’t run if you see anything big; walk back away from it slowly. Hiểu không?” he says, eyebrows furrowed.

“Dạ, cậu Bảo,“ Lyra nods. She steps over to her uncle, dipping a bit to hug him. “I’ll see you tonight.”

With that, Walterine, Neha, James and Bảo see them out. The two teenagers turn around to wave at them farewell, their gesture returned warmly by the others.

Once out of earshot, Asra asks, “Is she mad at me?”

“Nah,” Lyra shakes her head. “She’s upset I’m not spending much time with her lately. I’d give it about a month before she fully forgives me though.”

“That’s harsh,” Asra chuckles.

“It’s nothing too bad,” Lyra reassures. She raises her head up, looking at the dark forest ahead of them.

“Why does your friend live in there?” she murmurs, pausing where the cobblestones of the Temple District meet the soil of the forest.

“Reasons,” Asra says, wrapping the scarf around himself just a little more. Flashes of lavender and violet scales peek out from the folds.

Lyra can hear Faust softly breathing in there.

“Cozy, huh?” she laughs quietly.

Asra nods, a laugh coming through his nose.

“You ready?” he asks, giving her one last chance to back out.

Lyra looks up to the trees before them, swallowing.

She made it this far...

Lyra pulls her cloak tighter over herself, nodding.

“Let’s go...”

She reaches for his hand, and he grasps her in turn. With each step they take, the Temple District disappears behind them, covered my foliage.


	7. Part II — (Apprentice Timeline); Reservations Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on January 22nd, 2020

> Timeline: Apprentice; seven years ago  
>  ~~[three years before the Red Plague]~~

So far, the trek into the woods is pleasant. Given how eerily quiet the area is, the fact it is so nice to walk through is a head-scratcher.

At this point, the two young magicians are hand in hand, carefully traversing an area dense with the roots of trees and other foliage. Time to time one of them slips, only for the other to yank them upright.

For Lyra, it brings up memories of when she used to walk along the river bank in her village. Of course, the forest bordering the body of water she once lived close to was far livelier, and far sunnier than the one she’s in right now. Regardless, the mess of roots in this part of the environment reminds her of that place all the same.

“Hang on hang on…” Asra murmurs, pausing to lean against a boulder. He lowers his hood, his forehead glistening from the exertion of the trek.

Lyra gets the water sack from his bag and hands it to him. He uncorks the mouth of it, putting some in his cupped hand so Faust can get some sips before he gets a few mouthfuls.

He hands it off to Lyra, the latter taking sip before corking it again.

“How much further?” Lyra asks, leaning on the boulder with him. She takes one of her journals and fans him with it, gently tousling his cloud-white locks.

“Pft,” Asra chuckles, gently waving off her motions, earning a tongue stuck out at him.

In turn, Asra’s eyebrows rise, jaw slightly slack.

“…what?” Lyra inquired, hands on her hips. She can see the mischief cooking in those purple-pink irises.

“Ohh, so that’s where Neha learned it from!” he gasps.

 _Oops!_ Faust chimes in.

“Oh my-” Lyra sputters, soon exclaiming, “Lies! Slander!” Her attempt to yank his hood over his head was thwarted by his swift feet.

“Then where did she-?” he ducks out of the way from her hands again, laughing. _“Pft haha!_ Then where did she-?”

_“Asra I swear to the gods!-”_

She chases after him, mindful of the roots below her feet. Asra’s playful, teasing laughter echoes around them.

It takes a while, but Lyra eventually catches up with him. Once within reach, she grabs onto his shoulders and pins him against a nearby tree.

“Gotcha!” she wheezes, laughing with him.

“I give, I give!” Asra surrenders, startling a bit when Lyra crashes into him.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Asra supports her with one arm, the other frantically grabbing for the water bag so she can get a drink.

 _Here!_ Faust helps him get it out of his bag. The two of them set Lyra, sitting upright against the base of the tree to stabilize her.

“Slow down, you’ll get dizzy,” Asra warns when his friend attempts to chug a few mouthfuls. He winces when she chokes, spitting up some of the water. Asra hands her a small towel from her bag, shaking his head.

“Are you okay?” Asra asks, carefully rubbing his hand up and down her back.

She nods, coughing.

“Ugh,” Lyra groans, grimacing. “Hang on let’s… let’s just stay here…”

“Good idea,” Asra replies, settling against the tree beside her.

The sun’s still up. Taking a moment wouldn’t hurt anyone…

They have time.

⁂

_Later…_

“We’re lost, aren’t we?”

Lyra isn’t remotely mad; the two of them had gotten off track because of her, after all.

Unfortunately, her anxiety level is through the roof. She’s gripping Asra’s hand a bit too tight, which he reminds intermittently as he’s searching for familiar landmarks.

They’ve been at this for about an hour. The sun isn’t dipping in a downward descent yet, but Lyra’s feeling the pressure of time. She did want to meet Asra’s friend before the sun set…

“Hmm…” Asra stands on a boulder with a relatively flat top. He’s looking along the trees, trying to see if he’s marked any of them.

“Anything?” Lyra asks, pulling her cloak a bit tighter over herself as she joins him atop the boulder.

“Yeah, we’re lost,” Asra sighs. He didn’t look defeated however.

“So what are we gonna do?” Lyra murmurs, trying not to panic.

 _Awoo,_ Faust says.

“Huh?” Asra and Lyra look to Faust curiously.

 _Awooooo,_ Faust repeats.

Something clicks in Asra’s expression, which frightens Lyra a little bit. Gods knew what these two knew what the other was getting at-

 _“AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_ ” Asra hollers, startling Lyra.

“What the hell?!” Lyra exclaims. “Asra, is your head okay?”

She didn’t bump him too hard into the tree, did she?

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing—”

All Lyra can do is stare incredulously at her friend as he lets out some more howls.

Yup, she knocked him into the tree too hard. Nothing to be done to save him—

Far, far in the distance, a howl answers Asra’s own.

“What the fuck…” Lyra murmurs as Asra whoops gleefully.

“She heard me!”

“ _‘She’?”_ Lyra’s exasperated at him.

“C’mon,” Asra hops down the boulder, beckoning her to follow. “Inanna’s that way.”

“Inanna is your friend?”

“No, she’s a wolf.”

“…what sort of a world am I in right now?” Lyra murmurs to herself, shaking her head.

After the bespectacled teen hops down from the boulder, she starts jogging after him, unsure what she was going to see next.

* * *

_Later…_

Inanna is indeed a wolf. A big, giant wolf.

Asra and Lyra walked about fifteen minutes in the direction of the answering howls—with Asra howling intermittently—before Asra greets this large wolf.

Lyra can’t help but feel anxious that a giant apex predator is leading the way back to their intended destination. Still, she follows, holding Asra’s hand.

“Inanna’s a friend of mine and my friend,” Asra says. “I’ve known him longer than her though, so there’s that.”

Inanna lets out what sounds like a disgruntled huff.

“Yeah, I know he likes you better,” Asra laughs.

Lyra blinks, shaking her head.

Eventually, they come up to a path bordered by familiar warding charms. Lyra can feel the blanket of protection of Asra’s magic as they walk through.

“Are they to ward off spirits or to ward off animals?” Lyra asks, wracking her brain.

“A bit of both,” Asra says with a nonchalant shrug. “Ah, here we are!”

Lyra looks up and halts immediately, jaw slack at the sight before her.

A massive, old tree sits on top of a squat little hut. At maximum, to her estimation, the part of the hut before it’s a roof adds up about a foot and a half taller than Asra.

“Hang on…” Asra walks up to the hut, knocking on it in a peculiar pattern.

Before Lyra can ask why, she can feel the ripples of his magic wafting away from where his knuckles rap upon the wooden door. With ease, Asra opens the door, partially closing it behind him. There’s Asra’s voice, calling out to the walls within.

Someone answers in turn, their voice gravelly.

Lyra attempts to get closer, but Inanna moves to block her, letting out a huff.

“Okay, okay,” Lyra murmurs, arms raised as she backs up a bit.

There’s quite a bit of back and forth between Asra and his friend. The latter sounds disgruntled at best, annoyed at worst.

It sounded like it was going to be a while…

Lyra settles on top of a stump, and waits.

⁂

“…’s a weird place to sleep.”

“You have to give her credit though: she can sleep almost anywhere.”

“…sounds like someone I know…”

“Pft ha ha!”

⁂

Lyra jerks awake when Asra gently taps her upper arm.

“Pft haha,” Asra greets her, coughing. “Rise and shine!”

“How long was I out?” Lyra grumbles, rubbing her eyes.

“Not long,” Asra reassures. He helps her to her feet, giving her a wet wash cloth for her to wash her face. “Ready to meet my friend?”

At that, Lyra timidly lowers the wash cloth, her some of her short hair sticking to her face.

“Uh…”

Asra blinks, hands on his hips. “Really? You’re nervous _now?”_

“It’s one thing to talk about it and the other to actually go through with it.”

“Would it help you if I told you he’s a bit worried about meeting you too?”

Lyra lets out a wry laugh, working fast to move her hair back into place. “A little.”

Asra helps her to tame her hair, Faust giving her input every so often. Once they’re done, Asra replaces Lyra’s glasses to her face.

 _Pretty!_ Faust coos.

Lyra fiercely blushes, tugging another laugh out of Asra.

“Faust you’re too nice…” Lyra murmurs, tugging her cloak around herself as she follows Asra to the front of the hut.

 _Not nice! Truth!_ Faust replies, flicking her tongue out at her. Lyra sticks her tongue at her in turn, smiling.

Asra knocks on the door. “Muri! We’re coming in!”

With that, he opens the door. When Lyra hesitates, Asra beckons her to follow. She’s only convinced to follow him in when he—and Faust—pull puppy eyes at her.

When she enters, a massive wave of heat smacks into her. Not minding it, she takes a moment to look around from where she stands.

There’s a fireplace, a pile pf rugs on the floor, a table and three chairs…

In the corner, sitting upon a low stool, is what appears to be a man. He’s cloaked, and Lyra can swear she could see the glinting of metal coming from around his neck.

“Hi Muriel,” Asra greets, setting his bag haphazardly on the floor. “This is Lyra!” He stands aside a bit, gesturing to the bashful friend behind himself.

“…hi…” Lyra squeaks, gripping the strap of her pack.

“Oh, no no,” Asra turns to her now, gently patting her shoulders with his palms. “It’s okay he won’t hurt you-”

“…you shouldn’t have brought her… if she’s that afraid,” Muriel grunts.

“It’s okay,” Asra reassures him, quickly turning back to Lyra with a small smile to ease her. He whispers conspiratorially, “He isn’t used to people, but I put in a few good words for you to him.“

Lyra shakes her head at him, exasperated. Still… she came out all this way to meet his friend.

_Shck. Shck… shck…_

Lyra leans over a bit, looking past Asra to see the cloaked man whittling. Inanna lies in front of the fireplace, looking content.

“…you whittle?” Lyra asks, taking a few more steps into the hut before sitting down on the ground.

Muriel didn’t answer, but he paused long enough to hear her. He returns to his task without another word.

“He’s really good at it,” Asra whispers, closing the door. He pulls a fur from the pile, plopping himself upon it beside her. He scoots, patting the space for her to sit on.

“What does he make?” Lyra murmurs in turn, glancing at him.

“Little trinkets,” Asra explains. “He’s made me a fox one.”

“Aww,” she smiles.

“Maybe he’ll make you something one day.”

“Haha,” Lyra laughs. She knows where this discussion is heading.

It was a conversation that cycled in and out of their little talks: what kind of animal would you be? Asra always picked a fox or a snake. Lyra on the other hand, she couldn’t ever pick.

“Has he whittled Faust?” Lyra asks, giggling.

 _Yes!_ Faust confirms, slithering her way out of Asra’s scarf, heading for the floor. Asra helps to gently guide her down.

“She looks perfect each time too,” their fluffy-haired friend adds.

“…not the first ones,” Muriel murmurs, pausing to check his handiwork.

“She was much smaller,” Asra replies. “You did your best.“

“Mm…”

Lyra blinks, soon remembering what she wanted to ask.

“How long have you two known each other?”

“Seven years?” Asra hazards a guess.

“…almost ten,” Muriel corrects.

“Wow,” Lyra murmurs, nodding in awe. “That’s a deep bond.”

“You can say that again,” Asra says, eyes twinkling with fondness.

From there, it was primarily the two of them doing most of the talking. They spoke about spells they were learning—Lyra from her teacher, and Asra from both his own and Walterine—, guessing what Bảo was going to be making for dinner that night, and whether or not the rains would start early or late this year.

Once in a while, Muriel would add in his thoughts. Lyra’s delighted when he does, but is forced to tamper it down lest Muriel close up like a timid clam. Asra was exempt from it, having been his friend for so long. 

“Oh!” Lyra gasps, grabbing Asra’s upper arm and pointing toward the fireplace. “Look! Look, look _they’resnuggledup!!!”_

Asra snickers at her enthusiasm, turning to see Faust coiled up atop of Inanna.

“Gosh she must be in heaven,” Lyra chuckles, lying down on her front. She rests her chin atop her folded hands, admiring the animals’ contentment.

“Who?” Asra asks, lying down on his back beside her.

“Both.“

“Pft ha, yeah…”

They dig into their packs, dividing the remainder of the snacks among themselves. Asra offered half of his halves to Muriel. He declined any with meat, but he took the pumpkin bread.

“Walterine’s actually the baker’s cousin,“ Asra points out to Muriel. “That’s how I get that spot in front of her shop every Masquerade, and every once in a while.”

Muriel takes another bite of the pumpkin loaf, eyebrow raised.

“She lets you keep all your earnings, right?” Lyra asks.

“Yeah; that’s why I hang around so much,” Asra nods, finishing off a cookie.

Lyra shakes her head, chuckling. She turns her head to the small window of the hut, and jumps to her feet.

“Asra!” Lyra shouts, rushing to pack her stuff. “Asra, it’s almost sundown!“

Asra swears under his breath, rushing to pack his stuff too. “Sorry Faust,” he apologizes, scooping her up and letting her settle in his scarf.

Muriel watches them rush, slowly getting to his feet. Inanna follows suit, ambling to the door. She paws at it, whining.

“Hold on…” Muriel rumbles, lumbering over to open the door. She darts out, only to turn around and sit on her haunches, tail lazily thumping against the dirt.

“…I’ll lead you back,” Muriel murmurs, wrapping his cloak closer to himself.

“Thanks Muri,” Asra says earnestly, smiling.

Once they triple check everything, Muriel leads the way. He’s followed by Asra, Lyra, and Inanna takes up the rear.

⁂

_Later…_

As they approach the border where the forest meets the edge of the Temple District, Muriel is getting visibly anxious.

“Is he going to be okay?” Lyra whispers to Asra. They’re hand in hand behind his friend, Inanna close behind.

 _Guards mean,_ Faust answers.

“Yeah…” Asra murmurs. “We don’t want him seen by the guards.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story,” he replies. “I’ll tell you after dinner.”

Before long, Muriel stops behind the last bit of dense foliage before it opens up to where he’d be exposed.

“This is it,” Muriel murmurs.

“Ah,” Lyra exhales, seeing a set of three moving lanterns in the distance. “Looks like my uncles and aunt are coming to get us…”

“Thanks Muri,” Asra turns to his friend, stepping a bit past the cover of foliage. “We can take it from here.”

“Mm…”

Lyra turns to the tall man, giving him a small smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

“…”

“…?“ Lyra turns to Asra, looking unsure how to take Muriel’s lack of response.

Before Asra can say anything, Muriel mumbles something.

“I beg your pardon?” Lyra asks, looking up at him.

“…nicemeetingyoutoo,” Muriel mutters, turning away from her.

Lyra couldn’t help the smile at him.

“Lyra!” her uncles call, closer now.

“Here!” she and Asra respond in kind. The pair quickly bid Muriel farewell before they rush off, hand in hand.

Once the two magicians meet up with Lyra’s family—after James chastised the both of them for losing track of time—they go to have dinner at Bảo’s.

It’s standard fare, a small spread of little dishes. Neha and Asra at times have small arguments over which plate was theirs, until Lyra broke it up by dividing the plates evenly in half.

Overall, it was a good dinner, and Lyra wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

_Later that night…_

Asra is lying down on the floor of Lyra’s room, on top of a mat. Lyra is settled on top of her bed, peering over the edge to him.

“…he’s a former gladiator?” Lyra murmurs. It made some sense why he wanted to stay away from the general populace of Vesuvia. It also confirms that she _did_ see a collar on him.

“Yeah,” Asra replies. “He really does not like people much, and the guards are even worse.”

“I can’t entirely blame him,” Lyra murmurs. “From what I heard, the arena isn’t as attended as well once one of their gladiators literally walked out the door.”

Asra nods. “Serves them right,” he mutters, pulling the blanket over him.

“You going to sleep?” Lyra chuckles.

“Gonna try to,” Asra says, exhaling.

Lyra drums her fingers on the side of her bed, thinking.

“Y’know,” she murmurs, “there’s room for one more up here.“

Asra bolts upright, looking up at her like she grew another head. “I dunno if your uncle would let me over anymore.”

“Hey, I’m the one offering,” Lyra reasons, scooting over to make room. “If he’s gonna get mad at anyone, it’ll be me.”

“All right, your call,” Asra murmurs, getting up to join her.

It is a snug fit, the two of them. They have to squish together in order for Asra to not fall off.

His head is tucked under Lyra’s chin, both of their arms wrapped around each other loosely.

“Your heart is loud,” Asra laughs, earning a poke in the side from Lyra.

“Yours is too!” she retorts, the two of them laughing.

Soon enough, the day’s activities catch up with them. They fall asleep together, snuggled like a pair of cats.

It’s the best rest either of them had in a long time.


	8. Part II — (Apprentice Timeline); Accidental Sprain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra and Lyra visit Muriel at the hut. These visits usually go without a hitch, but one overjoyed wolf can equal an accident.
> 
> CW: Mention of what's going to be the beginning of the Red Plague and a moderate injury to an ankle
> 
> Originally posted on May 31st, 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of The Arcana Love Like Yours Fest on Tumblr
> 
> May 24th, 2020: Free Style

> Timeline: February, five years ago

“Wow,” Asra whistles quietly. He and Lyra look into the box full of Muriel’s carvings. “A lot of these look new!”

“Don’t touch them, Asra!” Lyra hushes, waving away his hand. “They look like he just painted them. Don’t screw up his hard work!”

Before Asra can reply, they both look up in time to see their aforementioned friend tromping into the hut. Inanna bolts right past Muriel, bounding a bee-line straight for-

Lyra immediately moves the box of carved animals out of the way. She braces herself—barely in time—for impact.

“Nana!” Muriel tuts when the wolf lands on them. He shakes his head, setting down his basket of pickings from the forest. He makes no move to rescue his friends as Inanna begins to affectionately slobber all over them.

Lyra struggles to heave Inanna off of her and Asra. Her friend, however, seems to have no problem being squished by the she-wolf. Lyra vehemently voices her complaints of Asra’s inaction, but the fluffy-haired magician couldn’t be bothered.

Muriel continues to set down the items from the basket onto the table. For once, he doesn’t mind the ridiculous racket his two friends and neighbor make. That’s the case, until one voice in particular—high pitched and downright desperate—rises above it all.

“Muri! A little hElP pLeAsE!” Lyra is flailing three of her four limbs. “My leg fell asleep!”

With a long-suffering sigh, Muriel sets his basket aside. “Inanna... up.” When Inanna doesn’t move, he lifts her off of them. Asra’s laughing in delight as Lyra rolls away, struggling to wake up her affected limb.

“Owwwwww, ow ow…” Lyra groans. She somehow resolves to hop on one leg across the hut’s floor and out the door. A small _thud_ is heard, followed by a pained groan. Asra’s laughter begins anew, his _pffhahahas_ interspersed with wheezing.

“...are you alive?” Muriel calls out.

“...kinda???”

“You'll live.”

“Thanks for your concerrrrrrrrn…”

“No problem.”

***

When Lyra didn’t return to the hut, Asra—finally freed of his fits of laughter—went outside to check on her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah I’m… stretching my leg…” Lyra answers, her voice strained.

Inside the hut, Muriel adds the freshly washed ingredients to the cauldron. Satisfied with the amounts he placed in, he drags the cauldron across the floor, grunting as he places it on the hook within the fireplace. Inanna settles beside it, tail lazily thumping against the floor. Her eyes are on the pot, as if willing the contents to cook faster.

“You can have some later,” Muriel murmurs. As he pets her head, Inanna’s tail thumps harder against the floor. 

Muriel pauses when he hears more _ow, owowowowowow_ s from Lyra. That was strange… if her leg was asleep, she should be fine by now.

Frowning, Muriel gets to his feet and trundles out of his hut. The glaring sunlight makes him squint, but he spots Asra and Lyra sitting on a log nearby.

Lyra’s half-straddling it, hissing in agony. One of her legs is outstretched before her, her foot without shoe and sock. Lyra’s other leg has its foot, properly shoed, planted firmly on the ground. Asra has his hands on her bare ankle, holding the joint in place as she’s attempting to stretch out her leg.

“Sprain?” Muriel murmurs, making his way over to them.

“I don’t know,” Asra’s concern furrowed his brows.

“...I think it is,” Lyra winces. “I’m… I’m trying to wiggle my toes… but it hurts to move.”

Muriel squats down between the two, taking a look at Lyra's ankle. The area is swollen; a nasty purple streak runs from the pinky toe of Lyra’s foot to her heel.

“...that’s not good,” Muriel states.

Lyra takes a gander at her injury, only for her expression to quickly become nauseated.

“I need to make some ice,” Asra says, shifting to move. “Muri, can you hold her ankle?”

“Wha-what?” Muriel sputters.

“Can you hold her ankle?” Asra repeats. “I’m holding it because when I let go of it before it… it looks _really_ weird.”

“...how weird?”

“Brace yourself,” Lyra forewarns, tensing as she covers her eyes with one hand.

It can’t be that bad...

Asra gently releases her ankle, showing the extent of the swelling… as well as the abnormal angle her joint briefly _flops_ to before he catches it again.

Correction: it is **_bad_ **...

“...you need a doctor,” Muriel says, standing up.

“I know!” Lyra whimpers, still having a hand covering her eyes. A tear drips out past her palm, sliding down her wrist and into the grass.

“We’ll have to rain check that dance tonight,” Asra says apologetically.

“It’s okay,” Lyra replies. “I was thinking not going anyway—”

“But it’s your birthday!”

_...her birthday?_

“Birthday or not, I’m not risking getting sick!” Lyra sighs, exasperated.

“...why’d you come out all the way here?” Muriel murmurs, maneuvering himself to switch places with Asra.

“I wanted to spend some time with you two,” she explains, crying out when Muriel gently sets his hand over her ankle. **_“Fuck!”_ **

“Sorry,” Muriel murmurs, looking away from her.

Once Asra is sure Muriel has a grip on her ankle, he rushes off to the barrel full of water on the other side of the hut.

Muriel wants to look everywhere but at Lyra now. Closing his eyes wasn’t an option: he… he’d get _those_ memories back. He’s seen enough injuries similar to hers to mean death in the arena. Out _here_ , having a lame ankle would mean being vulnerable to opportunistic predators...

“Well,” Lyra manages, shifting minutely, “at least you’ll have some peace and quiet when we go, huh?”

Muriel remains silent, looking away from her. His gaze focuses on a bumblebee lazily drifting from flower to flower, minding its own business.

“...it’s not Inanna’s fault,” Lyra exhales shakily. “She was just happy to see us.”

“You two are spoiling her,” Muriel replies, gaze shifting to his feet. Oh, there was her other shoe… right beside his foot. He carefully reaches out to it with his free hand, bringing it up to deposit in her lap.

“Thanks,” she sniffs.

“...You’re welcome.”

Asra returns with a wooden bowl with a block of ice in it, some straight pieces of wood to splint her ankle, and one of his old—but clean—scarves. Following him is Inanna, head low and ears drooping.

“It’s okay, girl,” Lyra coos, extending an arm to pet Inanna’s head once she's within reach. “It’s okay… you were just happy to see us…”

“We’re going to need to set her ankle,” Asra exhales. Muriel holds the bowl as Asra picks up and wraps the ice in the scarf. The carefully places it over Lyra’s injury. “We could carry her back now, but her ankle flopping around is not a good idea.”

The purple-eyed magician settles himself behind Lyra, arms casually wrapped around her middle. He settles his chin on her shoulder. In turn, Lyra tilts her head just enough for their temples to touch.

“...I might be swearing a lot, so apologies ahead of time” Lyra exhales. She continues to pet Inanna, adding, “And I apologize to you too, sweetie...”

Muriel snorts at the sentiment, shaking his head as Asra smiles wryly.

“We’ve heard worse. Trust me,” Muriel retorts. There’s almost an amused smile on his face as Lyra laughs.

Splinting her ankle was going to be a pain, but the ice would hopefully lessen the swelling. Until then, they were all staying right where they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is my last entry with Love Like Years Fest. While I didn't get all the prompts done in time, I really did enjoy writing all of these out.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!


	9. Part II — (Apprentice Timeline); Memory & Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Apprentice!Lyra Nguyen, the Aster-Nguyen family, Asra, Faust, and Nook the Book Mimic.
> 
> Timeline: Five years ago [takes place a few months after Accidental Sprain]
> 
> Part of 31DaysofArcana; [Days IX and X]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on November 3rd, 2020

It started off as a night that was slightly off kilter.

Walterine went home a touch early to look after her family. Neha had caught the flu first, which now has James and Bảo in a strangle-hold. This leaves Walterine and Lyra as the only ones left standing within the Aster-Nguyen household.

Asra decided to stay far, far away from them all in the meantime. Walterine completely understood, though was confused when he offered to get her some of the rarer items of The Shop’s inventory while he waited it out.

 _“Asra, the places where these things are from . . . you’re going to be looking down, **down** almost to the very borders of the South,”_ Walt reminded him. James was the one that took on that endeavor, having been a former resident himself. _“You sure you wanna do this?”_

Asra confirmed as such, and Walt helped him to prepare for the journey. The task was estimated to take about a month, going both ways. This, of course, worried everyone _but_ Asra.

Before he left, with Faust cleverly wrapped around is scarf-covered shoulders, Lyra gifted him a new necklace. The pendant’s a bright blue, teardrop-shaped thing on a decently sized cord.

 _“For luck and protection,”_ Lyra said.

When Asra accepted the gift, his hands decided to start shaking. As he fumbled with putting it on, Walt struggled to not laugh.

In the end, Lyra assisted her friend to put it on, but not before she gave him an eye-roll. As she did, Faust decided to be extra cheeky: the blue-lavender morph looped around both of their shoulders.

While this meant Faust wouldn’t be _completely_ in the way, this drew the two young adults very close to each other.

Asra swears in a language Lyra doesn’t know, almost breaking away from her in a sprint once she had the necklace properly clasped. Walt caught him before he was out the door, handing him his pack for the journey. With that and friendly farewells to the women, he left.

That was two days ago now, leaving Lyra to guard The Shop.

The light of lamp above the front door is out, and she already performed the ‘Cross-Me-Not’ spell over the wood grains. Despite there being a bedroom up the stairs, Lyra opted to sleep downstairs. There is a precious amount of merchandise on the shelf behind the counter, after all.

To her reasoning, so long as she was within reach of a broom or the empty bottle on the counter, whatever intruder that wanted to rob the shop was in for a bruised head.

She’s setting up her sleeping arrangements on the floor when she hears a racket outside. It’s coming from the back alley.

For the past week, the alley cats had been arguing with one another more heatedly. According to Faust, she said they weren’t always fighting _each **other**. _Whatever that meant, they couldn’t figure it out.

Asra himself didn’t see much of note when he checked around, but he placed more protection spells into the walls of The Shop.

Nonetheless, Lyra herself needed to see what’s going on . . .

_. . . and damn it she was terrified._

_Why didn’t Walt leave Bruno with me?_ Lyra thinks to herself. The faerie dragon, Walt’s familiar, is a pint-sized deterrent to mosquitoes and thieves alike. He and the Stove Salamander are the best of friends, often on the brink of making a bonfire of The Shop if they laughed too much.

She grabs a hefty broom. Armed with it, Lyra reaches for the door. Her hand’s unsteady, but manages to set her hand on the handle. Pressing down on it, the door lets out a gods-awful creaking noise. The woman peers out of the doorway, squinting into the dark night.

Thanks to some lit lamps from the neighbors, Lyra can make out the silhouettes of several alley cats, digging into rubbish piles. For a few minutes, she keeps watch. After a longer while, she resolves to scoot back into The Shop. Before she could close the door however, _all_ of the alley cats started to yowl and hiss, spitting at something from the other end of the alley.

Lyra presses herself against the door, squinting as the cats start to attack whatever’s intruding on their territory.

The _sounds_ coming from the cats’ target however, made all her hairs stand up on end. It sounded like another animal, fighting for its life!

Lyra doesn’t know why, but she rushes from the safety of The Shop, _shouting_ at the cats to leave whatever they’re mauling, alone! She used the brush side of the broom to sweep away the cats. When the cats round on her, Lyra summons a ball of light. Shutting her eyes, the magician turns the sphere into a starburst, effectively stunning and/or scaring away the alley cats.

Lyra opens her eyes, picking up whatever the cats left behind. In her hand, it felt like a carapace of sorts. The texture of this creature’s topside was not unlike the shell of a crab, though from what she could tell, it was very flexible.

Quickly closing the door behind her, Lyra swears under her breath, unable to see in the darkness of The Shop. The draft from the doorway must have blown out the candles . . . _great._

“Hang on little buddy,” Lyra soothes as she sets down the creature on a low stool. The animal let out a wheezing, gurgling sound.

Lyra hadn’t felt blood on her hands, nor smelt it, so she hopes the poor thing will survive . . .

Upon finding a candle and lighting it, she exhales, relieved.

“Alright little one,” Lyra addresses the creature, turning around to face it. “Let's get a look at—” Lyra stops in place, unsure of what she was seeing was right. To her utter confusion, the space where she left the creature is now occupied by . . . a book?

Lyra gapes at the space. She’s soon turning around and round, searching for the creature. The magician racks her brain, trying to figure out whether or not she _did_ place the critter on the table in the first place.

As she’s looking around on the floor, Lyra can hear movement on the table she had taken her eyes off of. Slowly, still acting as if she’s searching the floor, Lyra peers around the corner of a chair.

On the table, right where the book was, she witnesses it sprout four eyes . . . and _ten_ spindly legs. Lyra bites her lower lip, preventing herself from screaming in terror as the . . . the _thing_ wobbles on its appendages.

It’s then that she notices that several of said legs are severely mangled. The poor creature barely stands, almost immediately flopping back onto the table. The sound of impact is a heavy _thud_ , and the creature, as far as Lyra can tell, has no energy to hide themself any longer.

Slowly, carefully, Lyra stands up, looking on at the pitiful thing. She summons a few orbs of light, sending them to various parts of the room to illuminate the area. With the added radiance, she can see how badly hurt the creature was.

Their injured legs are beginning to leak a strange, blue-colored blood. One of them is bent in a very painful way, which makes her heart go out to them. Lyra carefully approaches the creature, murmuring, “Hi . . . may I take a look at you?”

The creature looks up at her, eyes big and scared.

“Okay . . . do you want to eat?” Lyra asks, looking around for any possible snacks for this one. The creature has a massive set of teeth. It seems to be more teeth than anything else, to be honest. “Do you just eat meat? Well, I have some scrap vegetables and . . .” she rushes up to the kitchenette, bringing down a small metal bowl of berries.

Lyra places an orange rind, a wrinkly raisin, and a speckled, beige shell of a longan in front of the creature. They sniff the provided offerings. Lyra cannot help but note they did that without any obvious nose.

Seeing that they aren’t moving with her so close, Lyra decides to clean up a bit. As she retrieves some towels to wipe up the blood on the table, she wonders what the creature is. A sort of shapeshifter for sure, but it makes her wonder: _where_ did they come from?

For now at least, Lyra would have a fun story to tell Walt, Asra, and the others when they got back.


	10. Part II — (Apprentice Timeline); Muriel - Nature [of Human Beings]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Apprentice!Lyra Nguyen and Muriel.
> 
> CW/TW: Past attempted sexual exploitation and a person suffering a triggering flashback.
> 
> Part of 31DaysofArcana; [Day IV]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on October 12th, 2020.

From when Bảo was exiled from Rồngkarst, Leysương to when Lyra arrived in Vesuvia, there was roughly a ten year gap.

To say the least, _a lot_ of things happened.

There were things that Lyra had told her uncle and his partners. There were also things they didn't know. There were _more_ things Asra knew than the adults. There were even _more_ things that Lyra kept from them . . . except for Muriel.

To say the least, they had meandered into this topic by complete accident.

Currently, Asra’s napping on a log, protected from splinters by a thick blanket beneath him. His hat is over his face, keeping the sunshine off of him. Faust’s curled up on his chest, snoozing as well.

Muriel’s whittling, sitting beside Lyra as she was practicing her calligraphy. She’s writing with a brush; her chosen item to use it on was a round slice of wood. She recently sawed it off a stump with Muriel’s help.

Muriel finishes his little project, he taps Lyra’s shoulder, showing his fourth attempt at Nook.

“Aww!” Lyra gasps, setting aside her piece of wood and brush. Making sure that she wouldn’t splash ink on Muriel’s hard work, she quickly wipes her hand free of her own ink. “You got his legs down now!”

“At least when he’s walking around land,” Muriel grunts, pointing out his previously failed attempts.

“Crab legs are harder than spider legs; you did great!” Lyra praises. She giggles as Muriel turns away, trying to hide the fact he was blushing.

As Lyra thumbs over the legs, she freezes. Muriel notices, immediately on alert to their surroundings. When he doesn’t see anything, he returns his attention to Lyra—

Only to see her eyes are full of unshed tears. Muriel balks, unsure what to do. This was more Asra or Lyra’s department, at least between the three of them. Muriel himself wasn’t the best at giving comfort . . .

Nonetheless, he tries. “Lyra?” Muriel murmurs, unsure if he should tap or pat her shoulder, to break her out of it.

That seems to do it. As Lyra blinks, a few tears roll down her cheek. She wipes them away, exhaling shakily.

“What happened?” Muriel looks to her hands. There wasn’t any blood, or evidence of splinters.

“ . . . I just remembered something,” she murmurs, She gingerly sets down the wooden figurine of Nook.

“From Rồngkarst?” The name was severely butchered on Muriel’s tongue, but he made an effort nonetheless.

“Sorta?” Lyra grimaces. “It was when I was riding with my cousins to Vesuvia . . .”

That was two years of hell, according to the young woman. She always hissed and scowled about that time, and honestly Muriel couldn’t blame her. Lyra’s cousins were as useless as Lucio’s governing ability.

“We were stopped in a small town. Hardly any inns so we were going to sleep in the cart that night. I was stretching my legs, told to return to the cart before sundown. They, as usual, ‘forgot’ to give me any money. I had scraps from breakfast that morning to last me the rest of the day instead of a proper meal.

“Anyway, after a wash in the river I walked into town and looked around in this small shop. At the time I thought it was weird no kids were looking into the windows. There were so many cute little toys on display . . .”

Lyra takes a moment to clear her throat, lips pressed together into a firm line.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Muriel reminds.

“I need it out of my head, Muri . . .” she replies, raspy. With a sigh, Muriel nods, permitting her to continue.

“I went in, taking my time to look around. The guy at the counter looked harmless enough. Old guy. Reminded me of a friendly . . .” she swallows, continuing in a low voice, “ . . . friendly relative.”

Seeing the way Lyra’s face screwed into distaste, looking ready to vomit, Muriel couldn’t help but grimace.

“He saw me looking around. I was looking at a rat, carved in wood. He asked if I wanted anything. I told him I didn’t have any money. He told me to pick out anything. I said it wouldn’t be good business practice to do so. He then told me I could have anything for free . . . if . . . if I had sex with him.

“I ran,” Lyra murmurs then, curling into herself. “I was close enough to the door and he was behind the counter. I ran to the cart and hid under blankets for the rest of the day. I didn’t eat until we were out of town . . .”

Muriel doesn’t know what prompts him to move, but he lowers his cloak from his shoulders. He holds out a corner to her, waiting.

Lyra takes it, scooting into the folds of his cloak. The length of fabric is musty, smelling intensely like Muriel. It makes her sneeze, prompting Muriel to snort in amusement.

“ . . . when was the last time you washed this?” Lyra murmurs, pinching her nose before quickly rubbing it with the heel of her palm. She snorts, shaking her head like a dog.

“Does it matter?” Muriel mutters. Lyra replies with a tilt of her head, a nonverbal _‘good point’._

The two sit there in companionable silence, and Lyra felt that a massive weight has come off of her shoulders.

She could trust him, and that means the world to her.


	11. Part III — (Apprentice Timeline); A Question From the Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on December 31st, 2019

> Timeline: Apprentice, The Red Plague.
> 
> This came about from a combination of a surreal dream I had and listening to Owl City’s _Saltwater Room_ and _Vanilla Twilight._

_“What happened to your hands?”  
_

Asra, for the life of him, could not see who was asking him that question. He was in The Magician’s realm, recuperating from his ordeal at the Lazaret.

He could smell the ash and smoke, mixed with the saltwater of the sea. The noxious aftertaste of it settled on the back of his tongue.

“Who, or what,” he says slowly, the exhaustion burdening his voice, “is asking?”

 _“...I’m not sure,”_ the voice replies.

Asra scoffs, rolling over on the mat he’s lying upon. He tugs the blanket up to his chin, closing his eyes.

 _“You didn’t answer my question,”_ the voice persists.

“I need to sleep,” Asra murmurs, voice muffled by the covers.

He hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when an invisible force is suddenly looming over him. There’s a massive amount of pressure laid upon him, like a massive weight was thrust upon his side.

“GET _OFF!”_ Asra roars, shoving the weight off of him.

The invisible entity crashes into the opposite wall, knocking stuff off of shelves high above the both of them.

Asra’s hair puffs up and out, magic vibrating with his anger.

_“Ow...”_

“Get away from me,” Asra hisses, flicking away the magic that had built up in his hands. The wake of his magic leaves deep trenches in the hard-packed floor of The Magician’s guest house.

He stalks outside, the vibrant environment of The Magician’s realm going unnoticed by him.

Asra settles himself on the sand just above the opalescent tide. He rests his hands down into the sand. Unlike the sands of the physical realms, it doesn’t feel grainy and irritating. Sifting his hands through the top layers of the sand, the granules have the texture of smooth, tiny beads before they melt into a semi-solid substance.

As footsteps approach him, Asra doesn’t need to turn his head to know who it is.

“I can see you don’t care much for that entity,” The Magician chuckles, stopping behind where Asra is seated.

“I want to be left alone,” Asra murmurs in reply. “I was trying to sleep and they started to bother me...”

“Mm,” The Magician gently huffs. Whether he was amused or wistful, it was hard to tell.

“...the bones,” the Major Arcana begins, seeming to note how Asra tucks his cut up hands away, hugging himself. “Where are her bones?”

“Safe,” Asra croaks, gritting his teeth. Unbidden, the tears start dripping down his face. He curls into his himself, his body soon wracked with sobs.

⁂

_**“Asra!”** _

The young magician is shaken out of his sleep by a set of familiar hands. He’s dazed for a few moments, babbling...

“Lyra?” he calls. “Wh-where... _Lyra?”_

“Shh...” Muriel soothes, gently setting him upright in his pile of pillows.

“M-Muri...” Asra gasps, clinging onto his best friend’s arm. “M-Muri I left her _alone-”_

“Asra, stop-”

“She was alone! I yelled at her and then I left and sh-she’s g o n e! _Oh gods,_ she’s _gone,_ Muri. She died alone! She died _a l o n e-!”_

Muriel grimaces, holding Asra in his arms as his best friend breaks down, sobbing until he can’t anymore.

Heartbroken wails turn to shallow sobs. Eventually, the white-haired magician is fast asleep, again for the fifth time that night. Muriel remains a solid bastion, keeping a watchful eye over him.

It’s going to be a long night...


	12. Part IV — (Librarian Timeline); this . . . is new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Librarian!Lyra and Portia Devorak
> 
> ⁂ ⁂ ⁂
> 
> Lyra's barely back in Vesuvia for a month before she's summoned to the palace to take her place as the new librarian. 
> 
> She never expected her heart to be flustered by the Countess's head servant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of The Arcana Love Like Yours Fest on Tumblr
> 
> May 18th, 2020: Caught Red Hearted

Portia and Lyra first meet about a month after Nadia wakes up from her coma.

  * On Nadia’s orders, Portia personally hands the summons from the palace to Lyra, who’s in the Temple District with her uncle and family. 
    * Upon seeing the contents of the letter, Lyra laughs. 
      * She’s only been back in Vesuvia for about three weeks before receiving the summons.
      * She also somewhat laments the fact she barely had time to relax after completing her studies in Prakra. 
        * Portia: “Studies?”
        * Lyra: “I’ve been studying to be a librarian in Prakra for about two and a half years. If all goes well we may be coworkers, Miss Portia.”



* * *

  * After asking the old-timers on the palace's staff, Portia learns that Lyra started apprenticing under the previous Palace Librarian six years ago. 
    * She left for her studies six months after the late Count’s untimely death. 
      * It also turns out Lyra worked in proximity to the late Count’s alleged murderer, the infamous Doctor Julian Devorak. 
        * _“You didn’t hear it from me but I think for a short while she had a crush on him—“_
        * _“Shhhhh!”_



This, of course, gets Portia’s attention.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ 

One week after Lyra's officially instated as the Director of the Palace Library, Portia finally catches her on her break.

  * Portia: “Hey, is your mentor around?” 
    * Lyra’s predecessor had come out of retirement to help her tidy up the library. 
      * Much to both their dismays, no one reorganized the library after the end of the Red Plague, never-mind the fact no one outside of select members of the Palace staff and _specific_ others were allowed within the walls for the past few years.


  * Lyra: “Who, Alex?”
  * Portia: “Mhm. Are they _here?_ ”
  * Lyra: “No I don’t believe so. They take their lunch outside.”



With that, Portia begins to ask questions about Doctor Julian Devorak.

  *     * Portia: “Also enough with the ‘Miss’! Just call me Portia. Everyone calls me Portia!”
    * Lyra: “Ha ha... alright, Portia.”



⁂ ⁂ ⁂ 

Despite Portia’s casual questions about ~~her brother~~ the doctor, what Lyra tells her is mostly the same of what she’s heard others have said about him:

  *     * “Dedicated to his research of the plague.”
    * “Hardly slept.”
    * “His dramatics were a hindrance at times…”
    * Etc, etc, etc...


  * Portia: “Do you think he had it in him to kill the late Count?” 
    * Her voice is a whisper. 
      * Never mind the fact that they were in the library... 
        * Even if no one else was around, the question hung heavily in the air.


  * Lyra: “...I’m not sure.”
  * Portia: “Is it because you had a crush on him?” 
    * A sputtering erupts from the normally composed librarian. 
      * In fact, her face became a rosy pink.
    * Regardless, she looks at Portia as if she grew another head.


  * Lyra: “...I beg your pardon who told you that?”
  * Portia: “I’ve heard that a lot of people had a crush on him!”



Lyra’s face immediately goes from pink to scarlet in response.

  *     * Portia: _“Oh_ my—!”



The handmaid’s laughter echoes in the library.

  * As Portia’s doubled over from laughing, Lyra can feel her heart leap from her chest and into her throat.
    * Oh gods... she sounded wonderful...


  * Lyra only gets her bearings once Portia’s laughter dies down. 
    * Finally, the librarian replies, “W-well I can tell you right now I don't feel _that_ way about him anymore—!”
    * She launches into a small tirade: after three weeks of knowing the man she was turned off from him _because_ of his dramatics.


  * Lyra: “Long story short, he is simply too much for me. He’s a decent man, but the rest of him I cannot bear to handle.”
  * Portia: “Sounds like it.” 
    * Her expression is exasperated, which Lyra is glad to focus on.
  * Before Lyra can ask Portia ‘why’ with the sudden interest in Doctor Devorak, the bells ring the hour. 
    * The two of them needed to get back to work.


  * Portia: “No rest for the wicked, huh?”
  * Lyra: “No, I guess not.” 
    * The two of them share a laugh.


  * Portia: “Hey, how about we hang out when you have time? I have a cottage not too far out from the palace’s grounds.”
  * Lyra: “Sure! You know where to find me.” 
    * She goes to see Portia out, heart fluttering.
    * Once the doors close behind the red-head, a dreamy sigh escapes the librarian.



_“Well, well well...”_

Lyra shrieks, whipping around in time to see her mentor—the very same one she was _sure_ was out to lunch—coming out from behind one of the shelves.

  * Lyra: “You were here!? You were _here_ _!?!?"_



At this point Alex makes their way toward Lyra, who is frozen in place.

  * Alex: “I lost track of time—I was cleaning up my old office!”
  * Alex: “I started to come out of there to let you know I was going, and then I heard you and Miss Portia having quite the... _conversation.”_
    * Lyra: “Noooooooooooooooo...”


  * Alex: “It's nothing to be ashamed of, Lyra! Quite the opposite, in fact!” 
    * Lyra: _“Noooooooooooooooooooooooo...”_


  * Alex: “I think the two of you would make a lovely pair—” 
    * Lyra: “Alex for the love of everything dear to the both of us please stop _talking—!”_



She’s fully hidden her face behind her hands. She _bemoans_ the fact she will never live this down...!

  * Alex: “Now now settle down, settle down...”
    * They gently pat her shoulders, reassuring her they wouldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone.



After a bit of back and forth, they both seal the promise with a hug and part to their separate ways: Lyra to her work, and Alex to lunch... with a private, knowing smile.


	13. Part IV — (Apprentice Timeline); Finding Space and Time {Muriel's Route}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They haven’t gotten this close to her in over three years. And yet, there she was. There she was, in the flesh, wearing a dress meant for the Masquerade and cleaning her glasses.
> 
> Featuring: Bảo Nguyen, Walterine Aster, James Aster, and Neha Aster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on October 10th, 2020

**_Tent-Vesuvia_ **

All around them, people that fled from Vesuvia were trickling into the forest. People have already started to dig pits for bonfires, have designated areas for latrines, and are setting up tents to stay in for the foreseeable future.

Asra's been guiding the four of them to settle on a spot. James holds some of the poles to pitch the tent; Walt carries a box of what they could fit from home; Neha holds an additional box of such, along with a tarp folded on top of it; Bảo himself holds some more metal poles, wearing a tool belt with some spades, metal spikes, and a length of rope lashed around his waist.

It's when they get closer to their destination that Bảo halts abruptly, causing James to almost topple them both from bumping into his husband.

“Oi!” James gasps, righting himself quickly. He rebalances his hold on the poles, asking Bảo what’s wrong.

The shortest of them says nothing. His gaze remains pointed ahead, to where a couple just finished setting up their tent.

The four of them haven’t gotten this close to her in over three years. And yet, there she was. There she was in the flesh, wearing a dress meant for the Masquerade and cleaning her glasses.

“Lyra!” Asra calls, removing his hat from his head. He approaches the two further up. “Can they set up camp over there?”

Muriel, former Scourge of the South, lets out a noncommittal sound.

He was with Lyra?

_All the times she went to the forest with Asra . . . was it to see—?_

“Oh, sure!” Lyra nods. As the young woman replaces her glasses on her face, she turns toward the others. Bảo quickly throws the hood of his cloak over his head, and Neha follows suit.

_They didn’t want a repeat of last time . . ._

Lyra carefully approaches them, most definitely not wearing the right shoes for this terrain.

Asra offers his arm to help balance her. From there, he makes the introductions, eyes mostly on Lyra. He’s gauging how she’s going to fare . . . seeing them all again.

Neha hides behind her Papa, leaning over to the side to get a look at her. Bảo on the other hand stands just off to the side, slightly separated from the rest of them. His heart is thundering in his chest, body slightly tremulous.

When Asra introduces Bảo to his niece, the man stays silent.

After a while of awkward silence, James clears his throat. “If it’s all the same to ye,” he murmurs softly, “me family and I would like to get settled.”

Lyra nods in understanding. She points out some rocks in the area to avoid, lest anyone get concussions. “If you need any help, we’re just up the way,” she adds, smiling as she gestures to where she's settled.

With that, Asra helps Lyra back toward the tent. The white-haired magician turns back a moment to see nods of thanks from the Aster-Nguyen family.

It’s a start, to say the least.

* * *

Over time, Lyra and Muriel have become beloved public figures within Tent-Vesuvia. Lyra, kind as ever, helped around where she could. Muriel typically wasn’t too far away from her, offering a begrudging hand here and there too.

One evening, Lyra plays a game of kickball with some of the younger kids. Most are as young as four years old, and the eldest ones are within the teenaged category. At the moment, Neha is off harvesting food with a group of adults, including her father. This leaves Walterine and Bảo back within the settlement.

Currently, Walterine sits against a tree, her husband in her arms. Bảo has his back to her front, settled between her legs. Walt herself has her chin playfully settled atop of her husband’s head, arms wrapped around his waist.

“You okay?” Walt murmurs.

“Mm?” Bảo blinks, shifting his head up slightly. “Why you ask?”

“Well . . . you’re always watchin’ her, but you’re not trying to get to know her again.”

Before he can answer, a children's chorus of mischievous laughter fills the air. Bảo shifts to look, witnessing the kids collectively tackle his beloved niece to the dirt in an impromptu dog pile. Parents immediately go pick their rowdy little ones off of Lyra. Miraculously, her glasses weren’t broken in the process.

“We win!” one of the children crow as they’re carried off by one parent, the other profusely apologizing to Lyra.

“No no no! I-it’s okay!” she reassures, dusting herself off. She, at the very least, got into more practical clothes.

Neither of them knew why Muriel remained in his Masquerade attire. Seeing how big of a guy he is, it's probably the only thing within the camp to fit him properly.

“ . . . you gonna talk to her?” Walt murmurs, hugging Bảo just a little tighter.

“. . . not yet,” he replies. His wife sighs, but she plants a soothing kiss to the top of his head. Patting his shoulder, the pair of them get up as Neha and James return with their group of neighbors.

It was time to divvy up the goods.

* * *

“Excuse me?”

James looks up, seeing Lyra standing before him.

Currently, he’s in the process of waxing his bowstring. Surprisingly, she too has a bow on hand. It’s unstrung, and the bowstring she holds in her hand is terribly frayed.

“Yes?” James replies, still rubbing the wax into his bowstring. “Do you have a question?”

She nods. James gestures for her to sit down. In turn, Lyra carefully moves a flat rock over, quickly settling on it.

After a pregnant pause, Lyra finally replies with, “I . . . want to learn how to properly wax the bowstring,”

“That’s fine,” James nods. “What arrows are you usin’?”

To his shock, Lyra conjures an arrow from thin air. It's made of light; he could make out touches of a light sea green color within the silvery arrow.

James swallows, his skin soon covered in goosebumps. “ . . . I see,” he nods, voice strained.

Before Lyra can properly apologize, James politely waves her off. "Doan worry 'bout it," he reassures. "I should've known you'd be able to do that. You were always a bright one, lass . . ."

Lyra shakes her hand about, dissipating the arrow before she hands the items over to him.

As James teaches her proper bow and bowstring care, he notices she's looking at him oddly.

"Is it me hair or eyes?" he laughs softly.

" . . . both and . . . not." Lyra rubs the side of her neck sheepishly.

"What's botherin' you?"

". . . how do you know Asra?"

_Ah . . ._

"Me wife is a magician too," he explains. "She went to your shop quite a bit."

"How come I've never seen her, then?"

"Walt's economical," James nods. "Tends to buy enough to last 'er a while."

Lyra looks at him skeptically. James raises an eyebrow in turn.

"Lass, if you want to say something—"

"I knew you and your family before, didn't I?"

James is taken aback by her bluntness. He's missed it.

". . . yes," he nods. James checks the state of her bowstring, handing it back to her. "You know how to string it?"

"Wait a minute!" Lyra sputters. "How? Why? How come—?"

"Easy Lyra . . ." he soothes. "Easy. Mind yer voice; getting more eyes as is." James makes a gesture to someplace behind her with the tilt of his head.

Lyra flushes scarlet, mouth curved into a frown. In the meantime, James looks at the curious onlookers with a venomous glare. _Move . . ._

They eventually dispersed. When James is sure they’re alone, he asks her quietly, “How did you know?”

“You slipped,” Lyra chuckles wryly. “You said how I was ‘always a bright one’. I don’t remember you, sadly . . .”

“Asra told us about your accident,” he replies. James continues with the details: how she was trying a spell to find a cure for the Red Plague. It backfired terrifically. It had wiped her memory to the point where she was almost like an infant.

“Th’ fact Asra managed to get you back to being like an adult again in a _three year span_ . . .” James exhales. “We’re . . . we’re indebted to him, truly.”

“Ahh . . . yeah,” Lyra nods, swallowing. “Asra told me that too.”

“’m sorry . . .”

“What are you sorry for?” Lyra looks at him quizzically.

“The fact you dealt with all that, and the episodes if you came across any one of us . . ."

"It wasn't your fault," Lyra murmurs. "We didn't know . . . _you_ didn't know. . ."

James nods. "So . . . how do you wish to get to know us all again . . .?"

**O*O*O**

They have this conversation while Lyra and Muriel were in the Countess’s headquarters. James breaks the news to his family that their niece now knew of her connection to them.

_“WHY YOU DO THAT?!”_

While Walt gapes at their husband’s outburst, James winces. Their daughter wisely moves out of the vicinity, mumbling she’s going to a friend’s tent just down the way.

“I beg your pardon—she’s family!” Walt crosses her arms over her chest. Adjusting her glasses, she adds, “Bảo, this is your chance to—”

“Not like this!” Bảo responds. His voice is paper-thin, drawing worry between his spouses’ eyebrows. “No no, not like this . . .”

Walterine and James share a look of concern as Bảo _completely_ breaks down in front of them. James gathers him into his arms, carrying him back into their tent with Walt following close behind.

By the time Lyra and Muriel stumble back to their tent, Bảo had completely cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Everyone else is asleep at this point. Walterine would be on patrol duty in just fifteen minutes

“Mrs. Aster? Or should it be Auntie?” Walt turns around to see Lyra. The young woman stands just a little bit outside the light of the campfire.

Walt lowers her glasses a moment, her magenta eyes flashing in the moonlight. Satisfied this was not an imposter, Walt waves her over.

“C’mon, take a seat!” The older woman pats the space of the log next to herself. “And please, don’t call me that. We’re family, Ly!”

Struck by how familiar Walterine’s being with her, Lyra carefully settles herself down on the spot.

“What can I do you for?” Walt asks Lyra. “It can’t be anything big, though. Got patrol soon.”

“I know,” Lyra nods. “I’m on this patrol too.”

Walt grins at that. “Big tall and handsome coming along?”

Lyra sputters, blushing a bit. “He may or may not . . . depends if Asra’s filling in for him.

“Fine by me: I can get the dirt on you from Asra,” Walt teases.

“Dirt? What dirt?” Lyra retorts, incredulous. “Why can’t you talk to _me_?”

Walt chuckles. She pats Lyra’s shoulder. “Hon, I’m just teasing. I’m sorry.”

Lyra nods in reply, exhaling softly.

“How many patrols have you done already?” Walterine asks.

“Mmmmmm . . . this would be my fourth, overall?” Lyra murmurs.

“Are you still scared of the dark?”

“Not as bad, I think. Asra said when I first woke up I couldn’t sleep without the stove salamander for a while.”

Walt chuckles good-naturedly. “The stove salamander is a lovely little friend.”

“Mm!”

They sit together, happily getting to know each other again. Lyra turns around when she hears their patrol group approaching, and a smile alights her face as Muriel turns out to be among the group.

“Everyone got everything?” Walt asks, getting her lantern relit. Everyone makes a confirming sound.

“All right. Let’s go!”

**O*O*O**

The patrol went uneventfully; everyone’s grateful for that. While walking together, Walt took up the front with a fisherman and a bricklayer. In turn, Lyra often switched off with Muriel in terms of holding up the rear, then taking a position in the middle.

By the time the trio return to the area, James is already awake. He’s made breakfast for the three of them. Apparently, he’s also on the next patrol rotation.

Muriel quietly thanks James, trundling off with his bowl to sit on a nearby stump. Lyra does so as well, but not before dipping her head in thanks.

Lyra’s eyes catch movement in the tent behind James. Before the tent flap closed, she caught a flash of bright green hair framing a curious face.

* * *

Lyra got to meet Neha Aster when the latter was in a sparring circle with other teenagers and young adults. Nahara herself was watching them work, making commentary on how to reposition their stance and to catch their opponents by surprise.

“ . . . she moves like a dancer,” Lyra notes to the Prakran princess.

“You said she’s your sister?” Nahara inquires softly.

“According to my aunt and uncle, she was around the age of eight or nine when we first met,” Lyra explains. “Walt said she adopted me as a sister right on the spot, even as I was in rags and covered in lice . . .”

As she watches, the bright green of Neha’s tied-back hair comes apart when her opponent grabs at it. The pair tumble to the ground, wrestling ferociously. Nahara moves to break it up when Neha bites, _hard,_ into her opponent's forearm. As Neha and her opponent spring appart, a bloody bite mark is evident on the other’s forearm. Neha had bitten hard enough to draw blood.

“Take a break, everyone!” Nahara states. She specifically tells Neha to go and clean up her mouth. As Neha departs, she catches sight of Lyra following after her.

“You don’t need to hold my hair back,” she tells the bespectacled woman. “I’m fine.”

“You’re pretty scrappy,” Lyra compliments.

Neha grins. “A lot of my friends are from the South End. I had to keep up with them somehow. I learned from Baba.”

“James?”

“No,” Neha shakes her head. “Your uncle.”

**O*O*O**

After Neha cleaned up, they both sat around a campfire, eating their lunch. Lyra munches on some scrambled eggs as Neha has some masala kheema with rice.

“Want some?” Neha offers her.

“Is it spicy like last time?”

“No; they lessened the spice after everyone had to run to the latrines,” Neha laughs, grinning as Lyra shakes her head.

“It doesn’t taste good to you unless your gut is in agony?”

“Hey: food is food, especially now!” Neha replies. “Plus, until the fucking water can stop turning into wine, we’re still trying to make juice out of all the berries we’re picking. The forest’s gonna run out at this rate!”

Lyra nods. “Hopefully this whole situation will be resolved sooner.”

Neha smiles. “I know it will, especially with you and Muriel helping out.” A mischievous smile grows on Neha’s face. The fact it wasn’t too unlike Asra’s cat-like smirk makes Lyra squint.

“What are you doing?” Lyra murmurs.

“To be honest, I thought it was gonna be you and Asra.”

_“HUH?”_

“Yeah!” Neha continues, not seeming to care Lyra was bewildered. “You two were attached at the hip: not too different from how you are with Muriel now. Though, Asra was too chicken to confess so, yeah.”

Lyra stares at Neha, dumbfounded.

“But hey, he’s shacking up with Julian soooo . . .”

“Can we please change the subject,” Lyra pleads. Neha was too happy to do so.

* * *

Bảo, with a basket of laundry, is making his way back to his family’s tent. He’s struck by an amazing sight: Muriel and Lyra were returning to Tent-Vesuvia, making a beeline toward the Countess’s headquarters; behind them, wobbling on one heeled shoe and disheveled beyond belief, was _Consul Valerius_.

Bảo sets his basket aside. He finds a stump to stand on to see above the many people stopping and staring at the Consul.

Somehow, Walt and James find him in his chosen spot. As Bảo is trying not to burst into laughter, Walt pats his arm.

“He’s mourning the loss of a fancy-ass shoe, hon. Have some respect!” she cackles, soon leaning onto him for support as she laughs with him. James had a stupendously grin on his face, watching Consul Valerius trudge into the hut after Muriel and Lyra.

Later, spun by the group of teenagers witnessing the Consul’s walk of shame, news of it got through the entire settlement.

_“He fell into the mud and Muriel had to pull his sorry ass out.”_

_“His shoe is deep in the mud: he’s never gonna see it again.”_

_“The worms won’t get much of a meal there: it’s as cheap as his personality.”_

It was the only thing that was spoken of throughout Tent-Vesuvia the rest of the night.

**O*O*O**

At an ungodly hour, Walterine returns from patrol with a grim expression. The woman finds Bảo talking with some friends at the campfire. She pats Bảo on the shoulder, and walks away from the group. He excuses himself from the others, quickly following after his wife. When Bảo’s within an arm’s length from her, she turns to face him.

“She’s heading into Vesuvia at dawn.”

A chill coalesces at the base of his neck. “What?” Bảo rasps.

“I heard from some of the others. She’s going with Muriel to take on the Pontifex.”

“Is the Countess crazy?!” Bảo exclaims. Walt hushes him, looking behind him to see if anyone was listening.

Satisfied that there weren’t any eavesdroppers, she replies with, “You need to talk to her. You need to, before it’s too late.”

* * *

He finds Lyra at the campfire closest to her and Muriel’s tent. She’s alone, looking into the flames in front of her; the young woman’s pensive. Bảo couldn’t blame her. He has half a mind to yell at the Countess for what she’s put her and Muriel up to . . .

As he approaches, Lyra looks up. Bảo stops not too far outside the light of the campfire. He lowers his hood, worriedly looking up. He expected Lyra to be clutching her head, to be writhing in agony on the ground. To his relief, she wasn’t doing any of that. Instead . . . she has a pleased expression.

“They told me to give you time, to let you seek _me_ out . . .” Lyra murmurs, voice a touch watery.

Bảo’s frozen, unsure what to do. His heart pounds in his chest. Tears prick along the rim of his eyes, blurring his vision. The man allows his feet to guide him: he rings around the campfire and pulls her into a warm embrace. Lyra adjusts herself, happily reciprocating the hug.

**O*O*O**

"There so much to tell you. . . where do I begin?" Bảo murmurs.

They sit side by side, the fire at a healthy height. He tosses in a few leaves, watching them turn to ash in seconds.

"I don't know if I have time to hear the entire story," Lyra admits. "Maybe . . . maybe tell me why you avoided me? For so long?"

Bảo grimaces, sighing. He throws in a small stick, watching it burn. "We . . . it wasn't long after you decide to be Doctor Devorak's assistant. Red Plague . . ." he takes a breath. "We left for Prakra because . . . I got sick. Very sick."

"Was it the plague?" Lyra winces.

Bảo shakes his head no. "I breathe in too much ash. I not only in charge of my store: I work at the dock." He explains further that it got so bad sometimes he couldn't _breathe_ at night.

"Doctor Devorak tell us to go Prakra. Better air, and treatment for me . . . then you decide to be apprentice for him." He laughs softly. "Such a brave girl . . ."

Lyra is surprised there's pride in his voice. "I dunno. Ask another person: they may say I was reckless."

"That too," Bảo agrees, a wry smile on his face. "You didn't want to leave your home to burn, so you stay to help . . ."

“Are we from Vesuvia?”

“No. We from place call Rồngkarst. Province in . . . in Leysương.”

“Is it far?”

“Very!" Bảo nods. "Take me a year with friends to go to Vesuvia."

“Did I come with you?”

At that question, Bảo's expression becomes rueful. “No . . . you were too little, and I wasn’ allow to take you with me . . .”

Seeing his expression, Lyra decides to not ask about it any further. She switches gears, asking, “How did you meet Walt and James?”

“They don’t tell you?”

“They told me they wanted you to be there with them, so you all could tell the story.”

“That sound like a good idea,” Bảo chuckles, nodding. From there, they continued to talk. He wants to ask about how she’s feeling about going back into the heart of Vesuvia, to fight one of the most dangerous courtiers that the city-state has ever known.

It wasn’t long before he could see Muriel approaching from a distance.

“I should get going,” Bảo murmurs. He points Muriel out to her. Upon seeing her dearest, Lyra nods in agreement.

When he stands, Lyra does as well. They embrace each other one more time before Bảo starts to head to his family’s tent.

As he makes his way back, Bảo murmurs prayers under his breath in Leysan. _Please, keep her safe . . ._ he pleads. _Please . . ._

Come dawn, Bảo’s in a patrol group with Walterine. While resting a moment, the pair spot Muriel, Asra, and Lyra making their way toward Vesuvia. Bảo’s knees buckle under him. Walt manages to catch him before he hits the ground, but he was already in the throes of a panic attack.

 _Come back!_ he wants to scream. _Come back, you don’t need to go!_ Sadly, all that is pulled from his throat are harsh sobs. He couldn’t lose her again; it’d be too soon, but Bảo’s feet are useless in getting him anywhere.

By the time he’s done sobbing, Lyra and her friends are long out of sight.


	14. Part IV — (Apprentice Timeline); In Circles {Muriel's Route}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: Muriel’s Route; before the conclusion of The Tower book.
> 
> ⁂ ⁂ ⁂
> 
> The night before Muriel and Lyra go to confront Vulgora is a restless one.
> 
> Somehow, humor and tidbits of Lyra's past find a way into their conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of The Arcana Love Like Yours Fest on Tumblr
> 
> May 20th, 2020: Fiery Kind of Love
> 
> [Posted May 24th, 2020]

Sleep doesn’t come easy for either of them.

Muriel stares up at the canopy of his and Lyra’s tent. Clouds passed through the moon’s light, dappling shadows over the canvas. The size of their temporary shelter could fit an average family of four. For these two, there was just enough room to have their Masquerade attire neatly folded off to the side. If the need arose, they could still shift around a bit to get comfortable… for the most part.

With Vesuvia’s humidity, even under the cover of the Dark Forest, Muriel slept without a shirt. Loose fitting trousers—quickly sewn together by a pair of kind grandmas in tent-Vesuvia—maintained his modesty.

In the case of Lyra, she was loaned a slightly over-sized nightshirt. Unfortunately at the moment, she would not stop turning around... and around. And around and around and around and—.

“Are you... trying to roll a dent into the dirt?” Muriel murmurs. Her back was to him as he looked over at her curiously. Even if Muriel couldn’t see her expression, the way she was postured exudes frustration.

Lyra pops upright, her legs soon crossed under herself. Without her glasses on, she squints into the low light filtering through the tent’s canvas. Her hair’s in disarray from her imitation of a rolling pin, batted about by a whimsical cat.

“...you’d think in a past life I could’ve been something that was cooked over a rotisserie,” she mutters.

The imagery catches Muriel completely off guard. His back bows against the ground as laughter explodes from him. Seeing him laugh _that_ hard starts Lyra into a fit of giggles herself.

Their uncharacteristically audible mirth brings some concerned neighbors over. After tapping on the couple's tent a few times, several different voices from the outside ask if they’re all right.

Muriel is absolutely wrecked from laughter. This left his partner to do the reassuring.

“No no, we-we’re,” Lyra titters, “we’re fine! Thank you for checking! Go back to sleep, please! Go back to sleep!”

Luckily, the kind strangers disperse.

It takes a bit, but Muriel and Lyra’s laughter eventually subside. They're both sitting upright now, getting the rest of the laughs out.

“Aahhhhhhhhh…” Lyra exhales, shaking her head.

“That,” Muriel coughs, clearing his throat, “that was… really funny.”

“Haha, thank you,” she replies, flashing him a grin.

After a few more chuckles eek out of her, Muriel finally asks, “...why were you moving around so much?”

Lyra blinks at him. “How do you mean?”

“Even when you can’t sleep you don’t do... _that._ ” Muriel uses his hand to demonstrate her tossing and turning before setting it down atop his thigh.

When she doesn’t answer right away, Muriel shifts, raising an eyebrow. When that doesn’t work, Muriel settles on continuing to look at her, expectant.

Lyra sighs, shaking her head. She soon pulls on the front of her nightshirt, stretching it away from herself. Even in the low light of the tent, Muriel can see it was soaked with sweat.

“I know Miss Sophie meant well, but it’s way, way too hot.”

Oh.

_Oh._

“Do you want me to turn around?” Muriel asks, a touch of a blush touching his cheeks. His gaze soon goes everywhere Lyra isn’t; even if they’ve seen each other without any clothes before, it’s still a bit intimate… almost _too_ intimate, even.

“No...” Lyra groans, starting to take the nightshirt off. Regardless, Muriel averts his gaze, pointing his line of sight toward his hands.

“I’m going to get a rag and have water from the water sack into… the bowl Gertie and her husband loaned us…

“I can wipe the upper half of myself down easily. My back is going to be the problem, though...”

“I can help.” When he looks over, he pointedly turns his gaze land about a foot above where Lyra’s head was. “After you’re, you’re finished…”

He can hear the smile in her voice when she replies, “Thanks Muri.”

“Mm...”

**O*O*O**

Muriel keeps his gaze away from her until she says she’s ready for him. Admittedly, he’s hesitant to turn too fast and see her, well…

His face turns really, really red at the thought.

“Muri?”

When Muri looks over to her, she’s holding a thin blanket over her front. Her chest and abdomen are entirely covered from view.

“Is this better?” she murmurs, shifting under his gaze.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Muriel replies, walking on his knees to settle just a bit behind her. Lyra then faces away from him, handing him a damp rag. “It’s not… we _have_ seen each other without clothes—”

“I think it’ll make it easier on the both of us,” Lyra murmurs. “I trust you; you’ll be fine.”

Without further ado, Muriel gently starts to wipe down her back. He doesn’t linger too long in that area, but his eyes linger around her upper back.

“You used to have ink spots,” slips out from him.

“Pardon?” Lyra tilts her head back, trying to look at him.

Muriel gently pressed the top of his finger against the back of her skull, having her face forward again.

“You used to have ink spots,” he repeats.

“What do you mean by that?”

Muriel pauses a moment, pondering how to explain.

“...has Asra ever... taught you ink manipulation?” He waits, checking to see if a headache was going to overtake her. Lyra took the news that she had died from the Red Plague well enough. Anything from before that—regarding her at least—is new territory, at least between the two of them.

“Not that I recall,” Lyra murmurs.

She sounds normal; that’s a good sign.

“Well,” Muriel returns to gently swiping the rag under her shoulder blades, “Your magic was different. You could write letters without a pen. Or an inkwell.”

“...where did the ink come from? The spots?” She shifts a bit, intrigued.

“I…” Muriel clears his throat, rubbing a hand of his over his face. He's closer to her lower back now. He had to be careful. “I’ve only seen them once.”

“That’s one more time than I’ll ever remember,” Lyra chuckles, twisting a bit to look up at him. “What did they look like?”

Muriel offers her a small smile before motioning her to turn back around. He was almost done with her back now…

“Twelve of them. Not all the same size. They didn’t go across your back in a straight line.”

“Oh?”

“...I can… touch your back to, to—” _To show you. Kind of._

He accidentally drops the rag on the floor. That was the end of that.

“Would… I could…” Muriel stammers, exhaling in frustration.

What grounds him then is Lyra carefully taking one of his hands into her own. She squeezes, murmuring, “You could press where you remember them being last on my back. Lemme get my thing on and it’ll make it less awkward?”

Muriel nods, turning around to wring out the rag just outside the front of their tent flap. Upon returning, a circle of fabric is wrapped around Lyra’s chest.

Lyra playfully poses, smiling cheekily. “Better?”

Muriel is caught between smiling fondly or shaking his head. He opts to have his eyes closed as he shakes his head, at least for a short while.

The pair settle back into the spots they were in earlier. Lyra faces away from Muriel, glancing at her folded up dress from the Masquerade.

"Funny how it managed to stay all white this long," Lyra murmurs.

"Magic?" His comment pulls a laugh from her.

"Maybe it is! Who knows though? Who knows…" she hums.

“You can start when you’re ready.”

Even with the strip of fabric tied behind her back, Muriel could still recall the inky circles that were once there. Carefully with his fingers, he slowly traces his memory of her marks into her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not shown after this scene—they find out her back is a very sensitive spot and they file that away for future purposes the writer is not comfortable writing.


	15. Part V — (Apprentice Timeline); Overthinking {Asra's Route, Upright}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally published to tumblr on November 11th, 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was an ask prompt from sunrisenfool on tumblr; "...29. a kiss as a promise but with lyra and asra?"
> 
> As the saying goes, first comes love, then comes ________.

It’s almost midnight, as far as she can tell.

By candlelight, Lyra is looking over her vows. She had two different copies of them: the original parchment in which she wrote upon, and her vows written on the smaller note cards. The latter would be easier for her to hold as she would recite them…

Nadia’s officiating their wedding. Selasi’s both catering and providing their wedding cake—pumpkin bread filling; she forgot what flavor the icing was—and is beyond elated that she and Asra are getting married.

The ceremony is going to be held at the maze’s fountain. They’d exchange their vows there, with family and friends in attendance.

Aisha and Salim were going to be on his side of the ‘aisle’, of course, and Lyra’s own family on her side. Walterine Aster, her husband James, their kid, Neha…

And her uncle, Bảo Nguyen.

Lyra was still in the process of getting to know them all again. She felt awful she couldn’t remember much of her past, especially in regards to her uncle and Neha. Nevertheless, they’re all making progress in creating new memories together.

As Lyra ponders all the details of her wedding, she starts a bit when Faust gently slithers around her shoulders. Oh; the little morph must have started inching up her arm and she didn’t notice.

 _Worried?_ Faust asks.

“Just a little Faust,” Lyra sighs, gently scritching Faust’s chin. “I’m not getting cold feet though. I promise you that.”

Asra and her have gone through so much together. The insanity of the first Masquerade she would ever remember tested them, but they ultimately overcame many an obstacle.

They’re still together now, and with their vows…

It’d be official.

As she’s nuzzling Faust, Lyra carefully sets aside the parchment. The rustling of the papers rouses Asra from his sleep.

“Haha,” Lyra greets, turning to face her fiancé .

“Wha time izzit?” Asra mumbles.

“Almost midnight?”

Asra scoots himself across their bed, gently pulling her into his arms. Faust takes it as her cue to wiggle away, resting on a different part of the bed.

Lyra giggles as Asra gently presses a kiss to her temple. She settles the top of her head under his chin, her back to his front.

“Usually I’m the night owl between us,” Asra mumbles into her hair, nuzzling her. “Is everything all right, my love?”

She melted a little bit at his term of endearment for her. Even after hearing it hundreds of times, Lyra knew she’d never get tired of it.

“I’m stressing over my vows, again.”

“Are you editing them again?”

“No…”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

Lyra lightly juts her elbow into his torso, earning an exaggerated _oof!_ from her fiancé . He falls backward into their bed, taking her down with him. Lyra wiggles in his arms, laughing.

They stay like that for a while, Lyra eventually shifting to press her ear against his chest. Asra’s heartbeat mirrors hers at times; it was strange. Nevertheless, being in the warmth of his arms calms her considerably.

“…to answer your question,” Lyra begins, exhaling, “I just wanted to memorize my vows.”

“Unless I missed a memo, it’s not a quiz?”

Lyra laughs, shaking her head. “No, I just… I just want to hold both your hands when we say our vows.”

“Nadia is going to read out our vows so we don’t need to worry.”

“I know but I wanna challenge myself,” Lyra laughs.

“You’re ridiculous,” Asra murmurs, quietly laughing.

“But you love me,” Lyra retorts, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“That I do,” Asra replies, nuzzling her.

Asra pulls the blanket up and over the two of them, gently placing kisses all over his fiancée’s face.

“Oh!” Asra exclaims. “I think I know what we can practice.”

Lyra raises her eyebrow again, looking at her spouse-to-be’s face. As it turns out, his eyes linger on her lips.

“What does it have to do with my mouth?” Lyra snickers.

“Lips mainly, but mouth is good too,” Asra explains, a playful glint in his eyes. He sobers a little, asking, “May I kiss you?”

“You may.”

Asra cups the side of her face, a smile full of adoration adorning his own as he leans forward, kissing her.

A few minutes was dedicated to this. They try different ways to kiss each other: if the kiss happened too fast, or when it was too heated to be appropriate when Nadia ordained their marriage, they laugh. 

Before long, Lyra yawns.

“Time to sleep,” Asra assesses, chuckling.

“Noooooo,” she complains.

Her fiancé snickers, placing one more kiss on her face. “C’mon; the rehearsal is tomorrow. We need to sleep early.”

Lyra immediately turns her head toward Asra, eyes wide. “Who are you and what have you done to my spouse?”

Asra chokes on his laughter. 

“What?” Lyra places her hands on her hips, squinting at him.

“Ah ha…” Asra clears his throat. “I don’t think I’m going to get used to hearing that from you…”

“What? The fact that I called you my spouse?”

His aura changes dramatically as he nods, blushing. He leans against Lyra more, smiling as he hides his face in her shoulder.

“You’re not going to pass out when we _do_ go through with the ceremony, right?” She is legitimately concerned, gently moving his fluffy, white hair away from his purple-pink eyes.

“Pft haha,” Asra smiles. “No; I promise.”

“Okay…”

With that, they settle down into bed together. Before Lyra turns out the candle, Asra spots their engagement rings in a little dish beside it. Seeing the flame reflected in the metal bands warms his heart.

With a flick of her wrist, the room descends into darkness. As the pair settle in for the night, the only light is from the moon, filtering through a break between the curtains of the window.


	16. Part V — (Apprentice Timeline); Tea [and the Pots They’re Brewed In] {Nadia's Route, Upright}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Apprentice!Lyra Nguyen, Bảo Nguyen, and Nadia Satrinava.
> 
> Part of 31DaysofArcana; [Day II]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on October 5th, 2020

Coming to the end of a long day, Nadia and Lyra are on their last threads of being productive. Trade deals, listening to the issues the citizens of Vesuvia have brought forth, letters to specific people, and so on had been on the roster since 8 A.M. that morning.

It’s now 4 P.M., and they were in their second-to-last appointment of the day. It was a blessed reprieve, for it was Lyra’s uncle coming to visit.

Portia barely announces Bảo’s arrival to the drawing room when Lyra darts from her spot on the sofa. The two collide jovially, greeting each other warmly in a mix of Leysan and Vesuvian.

Portia expertly sidesteps the ball of happy greetings. Turning to Nadia, Portia asks if she still wished for the platter of food, pot of chrysanthemum tea, and a bottle of Golden Goose to still be brought in.

“Yes, thank you Portia,” Nadia nods. Portia dips her head in acknowledgement and makes haste to the kitchens.

“Happy to see you again!” Bảo nods, taking his seat across from Nadia and Lyra.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Nadia nods. “Did your journey to the palace go well?”

He nods. “The carriage help!”

From there, the three of them spent time catching up. Nadia and Lyra spoke of what they’re planning for the wedding. Much to Bảo’s delight, he’s reminded he’s going to be walking his niece down the aisle to Nadia.

“Does Praetor _have_ to officiate wedding?” Bảo murmurs.

“Yes, as is protocol,” Nadia nods. “While I am looking for his replacement, as of right now he is the only one properly ordained in this matter.”

“I just hope he doesn’t bring his worm,” Lien grimaces. “I have had _enough_ worms for a lifetime . . .”

They all look up as Portia knocks, entering with a little serving cart. Bảo thanks her with a dip of his head. Whilst giving her a handshake, the man surreptitiously passes the handmaid a bit of money. Portia discreetly pockets it, though they all know Nadia wouldn’t mind the gesture.

“Ohh!” Lien gasps, seeing the little cakes.

Bảo passes the small plates of little cakes to his niece and future in-law.

Nadia uncorks the Golden Goose, pouring some for herself and Bảo. Lyra happily pours herself and her uncle the chrysanthemum tea.

Bảo suddenly has a vested interest in the pot. “Where did you get this from?” he asks the Countess.

“I believe it was a gift from Asra,” Nadia recounts. “Why the interest?”

“I have hobby collecting teapots,” Bảo explains. “There way to test the quality, at least if handmade.”

"There's a difference in quality of handmade teapots?" Lyra asks. When Bảo nods, she adds, “There’s a lot of them . . . how do you do it?”

“Well, it the sound when the water come out,” Bảo points out. “Fill with teapot, then tip into a bowl of water.”

“Oh?” Nadia muses. “Would you care to demonstrate after we eat?”

“Yes!” Bảo nods, beaming.

They settle into eating more of the spread before them. Bảo comments about how the wedding traditions in Vesuvia have the dresses be white rather than any other color.

“Like going to a funeral,” he shakes his head, chuckling.

“White is for funerals?” Lyra murmurs.

“Mm,” Bảo nods. “I still not use to it . . .”

“I hope it won’t be too uncomfortable for you once the ceremony gets underway,” Nadia replies.

“Oh no no; please don’t worry over me,” Bảo shakes his head. He takes a drink of Golden Goose, eyes widening.

“Is it to your liking?” Nadia inquires.

“Different!” he nods, taking a minute to sniff the spirit.

Lyra laughs softly. Before she can comment on it, Portia steps in.

“Milady, your next appointment is arriving soon,” Portia announces.

“Oh already?” Bảo pouts.

Nadia’s laugh soon rings through the air. This surprises Portia and Bảo, while for Lyra—

“What’s so funny?” she asks, bewildered.

“Oh, oh pardon me,” Nadia clears her throat, tapping her chest with her fingertips. “Your, your uncle’s pout resembles yours, my love. It’s adorable.”

Lyra blushes furiously, which prompts everyone in the room to laugh. Soon after, Nadia sees Bảo out the drawing room’s door with Lyra and Portia.

“We’ll see you later!” Lyra hugs Bảo. She can’t help but smile as he returns the hug, lifting Lyra off the ground a moment before setting her down again.

“Indeed. Don’t be a stranger!” Nadia bids farewell.

Bảo dips his head in turn. As Portia walks him out of the palace halls, he spies the decorations. They’re all for the wedding . . . at the end of the month.

To say the least, Bảo knew that their love would be everlasting. How did he know?

Call it an uncle’s intuition.


	17. Part V — (Apprentice Timeline); Murder [THAT HE DIDN’T COMMIT] {Julian's Route; Upright}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Apprentice!Lyra Nguyen, Julian Devorak, Portia Devorak, the locals of Nevion, and the late Lilinka.
> 
> Part of 31DaysofArcana; [Day III]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally published to tumblr on October 7th, 2020

Upon arrival in Nevion, Lyra got swept up in a grand scale of warm greetings from Portia and Julian’s childhood friends. The latter rescues Lyra as their questioning grows to be overwhelming for her.

The crowd shuffles them from the docks to one of the local pubs. The bartender instantly recognizes Julian, admonishing him for being away for so long.

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Julian replies. He gets a drink for that, and that’s how it all begins.

As Julian is surrounded by his friends, his very presence also gets the attention of other patrons. This leaves Lyra off to the far end of the table, though she didn’t mind. Between them, Julian’s the more sociable one.

Lyra keeps to herself for the most part. This doesn’t last for long, for she’s soon politely making conversation with those that wanted to know more about her. They want to know how this young woman got entangled in Julian’s heartstrings.

One person, however, stands out to Lyra. This person sulks nearby, no more than two people away from her. They didn’t seem to be very impressed with any of the conversation pertaining to the young woman.

When Portia notes Lyra is a powerful magician that’s sweet, kind, and a bookworm, there’s a scoff from the bitter patron.

“To be honest, I don’t think you’re Ilya’s type,” they snidely comment. From those within earshot, people give them a harsh reprimand, the loudest being Portia. Another patron goes so far as to throw a balled-up cloth napkin at the rude one.

“Well, you’re certainly not his,“ Lyra mumbles under her breath. Portia hears her regardless, snickering behind her hand.

Lyra gulps some water, taking a breath. _Calm down calm down calm down_. She stands, using the chair she vacated as a step, and hops on the table. _Watch your step_ . . .

She approaches to where Julian’s seated, minding the table settings around her. The doctor’s startled upon realizing her added height, but his bewildered expression grows into a grin.

“Yes darling?” Julian asks. As he looks up at her, it’s seen that his gray eye is full of adoration. His gaze makes Lyra feel light.

She wordlessly holds out her hand, trying not to tremble. Julian’s gloved one takes it, and is gracefully pulled onto the table with her.

As if on cue, people pull instruments out from behind the bar.

_We take turns being the ship that cast off all their moor lines, with the bow pointed to open ocean. Likewise, we’re each other’s anchor . . ._

The thought soothes her, steadying her hands in Julian’s gloved one and on his hip. He was leading tonight.

Julian calls out a beat, and Lyra swings them both into an impromptu dance to the loud intro of a folk song.

On Mazelinka’s ship, the pair had practiced this particular dance. Then, the melody was hummed out by Julian, clapped out by Portia, Maz, and the rest of the crew.

Lyra’s grateful for it. A part of her revels in absolute joy as the person who voiced their rude opinion leaves the bar.

That was _worth it._

* * *

 _“. . . and they were really rude about it!”_ Portia snaps, shaking her head.

Portia, Julian, and Lyra were making their way back to Mazelinka’s ship. While Lyra would’ve rather let sleeping dogs lie, Portia has blurted to her brother about what happened before Ly took her steps onto the table.

“It’s not a big deal . . .” Lyra murmurs, shaking her head. She readjusts her hold on Julian’s forearm, adding, “They were spouting nonsense. I know how Julian feels about me, and I know how _I_ feel about him.”

“My dear,” Julian replies, “while I, uh, don’t wish to drag it, er, along any further, what they said affected you . . .”

“ . . . you looked ready to cry.”

. . . was she? Lyra stops in her tracks, prompting Julian to do as well. As she frantically mulls over it, Julian insists that Portia go on ahead.

“We’ll meet you there, Pasha,” Julian nods. Portia returns the gesture, making her way onward without them.

Julian shifts his arm to gently wrap over Lyra’s shoulders. “Walk with me?”

“Mm,” she nods. Lyra follows his lead, snuggling closer to his side.

“ . . . I think I know who they are,” Julian murmurs, taking a step in another direction.

“Who?”

“I rejected them a long time ago,” Julian chuckles. “It looks like they’re still bitter about it.”

“Huh.”

“I don’t think they’ll bother you anymore,” Julian reassures. “If not, we can make out in the middle of the road and— _OOF!”_

Lyra elbows him in the side, making him squawk. She laughs, soon pulling Julian into a kiss, apologetic.

After that, they walk in comfortable silence. It seems that they’re going nowhere in particular, until they pass by a sign that makes Julian pause.

“What is it?” Lyra murmurs.

“Ah, it’s the graveyard,” Julian replies. “Lilinka is buried in there . . .”

“The grandma that raised you?”

“Yes.”

They stand there a while, listening to the night breeze caress the boughs of trees.

“ . . . may I make introductions?” Julian murmurs.

Lyra nods, following his lead into the graveyard. Lyra produces an orb of light, passing it over the headstones arranged all around them. Many of them are people of middle age, and a handful are just a few months old.

Those make her wince the most.

Soon, the pair come upon a little headstone, just under a tree. Lyra shifts her arm away from Julian, helping him to clear the leaves. As he pulls the weeds, Lyra sets them into a small refuse bin a little ways away.

Once the area is completely cleared, Julian and Lyra kneel in front of the headstone. Julian greets it in Nevivi, his voice watery. He speaks a bit, on occasion gesturing to Lyra.

Lyra holds his hand, rubbing her thumb over the leather of his glove. Once he’s finished, he rubs his neck.

“ . . . I, er, told her about getting accused of murder . . .”

Lyra laughs, shaking her head. “I can only imagine her reaction!”

Julian concurs, his own laughter joining Lyra’s in a duet. He hugs her from the side, nuzzling the top of her head. In turn, she leans toward his cool body.

“Mm . . .” Lyra hums. Guiding the sphere of light back to herself, she asks, “Do you think she’d like me?“

“Knowing her?” Julian murmurs, kissing the top of her head. “Without a doubt.”


	18. Part V — (Apprentice Timeline); Tarot [Visiting the Other Side] {Muriel's Route; Upright}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Lyra Nguyen, Iris Nguyen, Muriel & Khamgalai of the Kokhuri, and The Hermit.
> 
> Part of 31DaysofArcana; [Day VII]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally published to tumblr on Octover 18th, 2020.

**_“GRANDMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!“_ **

Khamgalai braces herself as Iris to barrels into her arms. Despite the fact the young girl basically _slams_ into the elderly woman, Khamgalai easily holds her ground.

“Iris!” she greets, lifting the girl a touch. “Look at you! You’re getting so big!” Khamgalai sets Iris back down, laughing. “Where are your mom and dad?”

Iris points back to the tree-line in the distance. As Khamgalai looks, Muriel and Lyra are just emerging from the forest.

“Iris, what did we say about running ahead of your parents?” Khamgalai sighs.

“Not to,” she replies. With a stern nod, Khamgalai ushers the girl into the Hermit’s hut.

“One of these days you’ll get in trouble by running ahead,” Khamgalai sighs.

[[MORE]]

Changing the subject, she asks, “You fast enough to catch your Aunc Asra yet?”

“No; he’s really fast!” Iris replies. “Uncle Julian’s faster, but he’s got the longer legs.” Iris sets herself down on a chair, having the back of it to her front. “If Dad wasn’t so big he’d be as fast as Uncle Julian. Maybe even faster!”

Khamgalai laughs, getting the child some milk. “Perhaps. Could stop people cold if they literally ran into him, hm?”

“Yeah!” Iris giggles.

As if on cue, Lyra and Muriel finally come through the door. Behind them is The Hermit.

“Hi Grandpa,” Iris greets the Arcana. Hermit grunts in response, making his way to the back of the hut. He takes an axe and walks back out.

“She got away from you again,” Khamgalai chuckles, raising an eyebrow at the slightly haggard parents before her.

“Iris learned to run before she could walk,” Muriel reminds, shaking his head as Lyra laughs.

“Yeah; this isn’t anything new,” his wife nods.

Iris giggles, sipping some of her milk. When Khamgalai asks what they saw on the way in, and she pipes up with the following: “We saw ponds! There were a lot of cool looking pollywogs in the ponds! Half of them had legs already!”

“They should be adults within the next hour or so,” Khamgalai nods.

“That’s soooo fast!” Iris gasps, elated. Turning to her mom and dad, she asks, “Can we go back and see?”

“Wanna join us, Khamgalai?” Lyra offers. The old woman nods.

“If they’re the ones I’m thinking of, it’ll be a delight,” Khamgalai chuckles.

“Whaddya mean?” Iris asks, eyes curious.

“They have a little thing on their nose that leads to their head.” Khamgalai pantomimes the part in question: having the topside of her thumb to her face, the woman has her hand as straight as an upright board. She shifts her hand up until her fingertips are far past her head. “They sound like they’re blowing a horn sometimes! They even _glow_ when they make the sound.”

Iris’s eyes are wide, definitely imagining the colorful wonders of these otherworldly frogs.

The child rushes to a corner of the hut, finding some old parchment stashed there. Upon her return, Lyra hands her little girl a stick of charcoal. Setting to it, Iris plots out what they’d all do upon finding the frogs. The child’s fingers are quickly blackened in charcoal dust as she doodles out her plans.

Beside her, Lyra and Muriel share an affectionate glance with Khamgalai, who returns it with a hearty chuckle.

 _Never change, little one._ Never change . . .


	19. Part V — (Apprentice Timeline); Oopsie [Here We Go Again] {Lucio's Route; Upright}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Apprentice!Lyra and Count Lucio.
> 
> Part of 31DaysofArcana; [Day VI]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally published to tumblr on October 14th, 2020

_**"LYRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"** _

In a snap, Lyra rushes from the living area of The Shop to see a whole shelf ready to crush Lucio with its weight. The young woman _leaps_ over Mercedes and Melchior, quickly using her own weight and bodily strength to shove the shelf back. In the process, several glass containers, tins, and other boxes of inventory crash onto the floor.

Lyra’s frozen, panting from the exertion. She’s too scared to move, lest she cut herself.

“Loosh . . .” Lyra murmurs, a bit pale at the sight of the minefield of glass all around her. She also didn’t have _any_ shoes on.

“Hold still hold still!” Lucio waves, desperately looking around for the dustpan and broom. “C’mon babies, don’t step on the glass!” he adds, gently moving Mercedes and Melchior back. “C’mon you two! I gotta get Ly outta there!”

Lucio finds the broom and dustpan. Getting on his knees, be quickly starts to brush the broken bits into the pan.

“Oh, careful!” Lyra hisses, seeing Lucio pick up the smaller pieces with his metal arm.

“I got it! Don’t worry,” Lucio soothes.

In a few minutes, the former Count got about every speck of glass off from the ground. He helps Lyra return the unbroken items to their rightful places. The ones that fell to the floor, and were destroyed from Lucio’s rapid brushing, were set aside.

Perhaps they’d be salvageable, or sold at a highly discounted price at a later time . . .

For now though, Lucio takes Ly into his arms, carrying her bridal style.

“What’re you doing?” Lyra laughs, voice tender.

“Carrying you back upstairs,” Lucio laughs, kissing her cheek. “Weren’t you cooking something?”

Seconds later, the both of them smell the acrid smoke of burnt food. Lucio immediately sets Lyra down, racing after her to try and salvage their lunch.


End file.
